Before I Leave You (Pt.61)

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Before I Leave You (Pt.61)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: 3 times you ask for help from the pack, and 3 times help is given.

Tags: Talk of trauma, Brief discussions of animal cruelty (not noodle), philosophical discussions, therapy talk, anxiety, non-sexual subspace, omegaspace, dom! Tae, mommy kink, trans! tae, brief sexual content, hints of free use, Assassin! Jimin, referenced crime, violence, possessive behaviors, nesting, biting,

W/c: 11.9k

A/n: I've made a little birthday list through amazon just like i did last year! although my birthday isn't until the 15th Thank you guys for always loving me and supporting me even when i'm not being the most productive. I hope this next year means i get to write for you guys more and more <3

Previous part ~ Masterlist

In the darkness of the library room, you place a hand over your heart and feel its thunderous pace.

Alone in the midmorning hum, you sit on the floor. Trying to ease the ache there on your own before you go and try to get someone else to do it for you. Trying your hardest because now that you know how to try, you just can’t stop.

You have been to exactly 4 therapy sessions. And it’s already starting to help.

Your voice is soft and squeaky. The words are only for you. Eyes screwed shut tight. The same way someone would make a wish on birthday candles.

“You’re going to be so brave, even if you’re scared. You can be as scared as you want so long as you’re brave too.”

These are words you speak to yourself and for yourself. Syllables are shaky and voice warbly with the effort it takes to say them, but they do not fall on deaf ears, because the world Is listening.

Your heart doesn’t beat any slower, ignoring your demands. The world doesn’t spin any slower either. Trying is so scary.

Tae’s printer tucked beside her desk stops printing the dozen or so pages with a happy jingle. Maybe you should have just filled it out online. You thought it would be easier to have it laid out in front of you but now the walls of text just make you feel all the more intimidated.

Jin looks so simply capable of standing there by the kitchen sink, spending a little bit of extra time on deciding the dinner menu tonight because he simply has the time today. It's the first time he's had time to do something like this in a while.

He Looks at your fridge and debates a trip to H-mart. It’s kind of fun when the whole pack decides to go food shopping together. And since your bad day, he hasn’t had the chance to drag you along.

Jin thinks of hunting, of wolves running in a v. the modern version of it is the pack spread out working together to fill their carts. You and Tae taking everyone’s boba and pastry order and waiting in the long line at Tous les Jours, probably convincing her with puppy eyes to get one of the smaller cakes because they just look so pretty.

Namjoon will handle the fish and meat because he likes doing it. Hobi and Jimin will raid the snack aisle and get too many different kinds of gummies that Jin can’t really be mad over because the gummies are his favorite and they’re getting them for him. Jungkook will handle the sauces. He thinks of standing side by side with Yoongi as they bicker overproduce. The perfect way to spend a Sunday.

But Jiminie doesn’t always like going on Sundays- since it can get a little crowded. And to have any of them even a little bit upset doesn't fit with Jin's vision. Maybe if they just go a little bit later.

He hums to himself, oblivious to his audience. Adding things to his list that he sees missing.

The line on the floor sits, blue painter’s tape that seals him off from you. It still feels a little bit dangerous to toe along it even if he’s there. Rules are rules and Jin will make sure you follow them.

Jin’s a far cry from his usual put-together exterior, the hair on the back of his neck all pushed up not like someone had run their fingers through it or like he’s been tugging at it, uselessly stressed.

He doesn't mix his work and home life, and neither does Yoongi. It's a part of the uneasy truce they've struck. If they just don't talk about this, maybe it will go away. But occasionally the stress from it just seeps in like this.

He hasn’t had much time to himself recently, and even less time to spend with the pack. Jin has been dragged away every morning this week for early work meetings and made to stay late for briefings. He’d apologized for it profusely after getting home at 10 p.m. last night, but it wasn't the first movie night missed.

Namjoon was absent too, for a late surgery that dragged on and on. No one had been there to stop Jimin, Jungkook, and Hobi from wrestling each other a little too roughly. Or stop you and Tae from engaging playfully in a pillow fight. Yoongi’s too soft to be so contrary when the pups just want to have fun.

20 minutes ago the rest of the pack dragged him out of the nest and into the shower together. Under the guise of truly testing out every showerhead in the massive shower that Yoongi had constructed, "you mean you've never turned all of them on at once?"

"that wastes water!"

You'd declined, mostly because hobi was already in the bathroom with Namjoon, undressing, and certain things are meant for later.

mumbling that you wanted to go find Jin, and taken those few minutes to do this. You thought you heard some moaning from upstairs, and the sweet scent of your packmates says they're getting up to something. you probably have an hour until they're done.

Jin hadn't waited for the rest of the pack to wake to start the day, you wonder what stress woke him up early. You wish the distance didn’t make you feel guilty, but it does. You know that Jin’s not taking a step from your relationship. It’s just work, right? Jin’s not doing it on purpose.

Or is he?

The second you stand up to the doorway you wish you hadn’t, that you’d done this and just filed away the separate shame of not being enough just in case. The fear of rejection hangs like a low-forming cloud. Being brave is so hard.

It’s okay, maybe you shouldn’t take it personally. You’re hardly the most important person or the person Jin should make time for. He turns, eyebrows raising at you in the door, mouth hidden by the paper. Eyeing you expectantly. Your voice feels quieter, more strained than usual.

“Can I have your help with something?”

That’s how you and Seokjin end up sitting at the kitchen counter for the better part of the morning. H-mart and groceries forgotten, pouring over papers, lists, and deadlines written out in Seokjin’s neat script and your messy scrawl.

His hand presses between your shoulder blades, an affectionate touch. “I’m so proud of you sweetheart.” It doesn’t feel like he should be, because there are facts on the paper, dates, and thresholds that you know you just don’t meet. You twist your fingers over your lap.

“I should have thought about this at the beginning of the summer, I feel like I’ve already run out of time, now I’m gonna have to wait for next semester and-”

Namjoon makes a noise in his throat, stepping into the kitchen. Namjoon’s hair is wet and spikey, his body languid in that relaxed alpha way as he stoops to press a kiss to the back of your head and then Jin’s.

You fear you’re seconds away from the kitchen being inundated with packmates and you haven’t even talked to Yoongi about this. You almost want to cover up the sheets of paper and disappear. You feel approximately 2 inches tall when Namjoon’s eyes survey the mess.

“What’s this?”

Namjoon smells like nest-making, like the pack's pleasure, and it makes you shiver in your seat, all tingly. He smells similar to how he smelled a few nights ago;

After nest-making had finally gotten easier. after you'd finally started to get better, you and the other omegas had finally returned to your usual ritual.

Soft pushes at each other’s shoulders and sleepy scent marks over pillows with just Jungkook and Jin felt good while the others got ready for bed. Accompanied by the sound of Tae humming in the dressing room. The soft voices of Namjoon and Jimin as they chit-chat and brush their teeth.

Hobi watches, gaze darting away when he's caught staring, while he waters some of his plants that you've moved upstairs. turning at every giggle and purr. He watches as Jungkook bites the side of your shoulder, fingers skimming up your stomach to the bottom of your ribs, bare beneath your extra large t-shirt, you're not wearing much underneath. He stares too long, and his monstera overflows, watter dripping onto the floor.

"Shit-"

The curtains are drawn tight. The low alpha rumble of them excites your instincts; humming safe and protected. Humming see alpha, see what we can do for you as they wait to be invited into the nest. yoongi raises his eyebrows at hobi where he sits on the edge of the nest.

You and the other omegas are giggly and a touch closer to omegaspace than you usual. Fingers teasing at the expensive and new nesting materials but not lingering long on them when you have your pack, so close and underfoot. It's rare that you're all down at the same time.

The touches to each other's tummies make you feel softer and fuzzier. Nuzzling along the divots of Jungkook’s, nibbling when you can find something to get between your teeth. Jin’s is pillow soft and squishy like a marshmallow. And you rub your face into it over and over again, trying to get as much of your scent on him as possible, whining when it's just not enough.

“You like my stomach almost as much as the alphas do” Jin had teased, fingers dancing along your spine. His cheeks pink where Jungkook had actually bitten them, all of you are a little bitey.

“Can’t help it- so ’soft.” You’d slurred, half drunk on his pheromones.

Yoongi had waited patiently, eyes darker and warmer on you and Jin as you'd whined. But he'd been the first to be incorporated into the careful rings of fabric. His body arranged once you deemed the nest ready for packmates.

All of your hands lingering over him: his pink knees, his big hands, the curl of his too-long hair at the nape of his neck. Jungkook hummed and tugged at his pants until he shucked those off too. Fresh claiming marks sucked to his thighs, the same treatment that each of your packmates gets when your omegan instincts are roused.

Hobi had even tolerated your fussing with a small smile, when you’d nosed along his collar bones, ramrod straight and let you tug his sweatshirt off for yourself. Namjoon had kept you on a tight leash, fingers scruffing you. when you'd squirmed closer, "Alright, I think this nibbling has gone far enough."

Pheromones thick and comforting, You’re not the only one a little obsessed with Jungkook’s and Jin’s stomachs, for some reason it gives you pause, when you watch him lying prone, watching as Tae mouths at his stomach shirt pulled up, Namjoon letting out these little grumbly purrs.

Once Jin had elected that he was done with nest making, he’d nosed along your shoulders, pulling each of you down for a very thorough scent mark like he was verifying all of you were there, unharmed and happy before he’d been able to fall asleep. You’d curled up close by the wall feeling safe.

You hadn't been awake to year Namjoon and Yoongi's quiet conversation, "do you think this could be pre-heat?"

yoongi's pout had been a little too sullen, a reminder that as much as he's your mate, there are still things he doesn't know about you- what heat and pre-heat looks like one of them. you still haven't gone into heat, even though your last healthcheck went through without pause.

"i don't know. there's still Jin and Jungkooks skipped heats too- maybe its going to happen slowly." namjoon had just pet over the top of your head, "if it is, we'll be ready for it." you'd continued to sleep on, unaware and safe.

But the way that Jin’s looking over the papers is not safe, your anxiety climbing higher and higher. Especially when Namjoon picks up the tuition sheet.

Namjoon’s throat is thick with pride, this this is exactly the kind of thing that he’d been trying to suggest to Jin a few weeks ago. His eyes are a little shiny when he smiles at you. “We can help in any way you need.”

“It’s just community college Namjoon.” Namjoon leans in to kiss your cheek, the warmth under his lips foretelling your embarrassment. You are embarrassed to be seen trying. Embarrassed at the idea of failure.

“But still- we can help with tuition.” Namjoon is filled with glorious purpose, none of his pups will want for anything, and this is a real plan for the future. He's about ready to write a recommendation letter himself.

“Ah” you blink, “I can pay for it myself- Yoongi and I have-”

You were worried about this; talking about it. Acknowledging the elephant in the room. The reason why you and Yoongi don’t have day jobs, is what your blood and years of pain paid for.

“Nonsense- we can loan you the money. If that’s what you're worried about,” Namjoon is already considering this another cost of being a pack alpha, and it’s not even that much, the tuition honestly isn't expensive, at least not to Namjoon. Sure- he might not go around buying you nesting pods any time soon but this is important. This on paper in front of you, is a hint at a real future.

You press your hands flat across the counter, unable to meet his eyes. “No- what I’m saying is I don’t need you to.”

That prompts an entirely different kind of questioning. Namjoon and Jin pour over the documents that Moonbyul had dropped off what feels like months ago along with Hobi’s car. The documents that you’d shoved in the back of a closet are now under scrutiny. Routing codes and account numbers for a set of Swiss bank accounts with dizzying balances. Deeds to houses on the other side of the country and the globe.

Jin looks them up on Zillow just to know how much they’re worth. His mind reeling with the number of attached zeros. The penthouse, the brownstone, the beach house that you’ve never been to off the coast of some foreign country (is Mykonos in Greece or Italy?). The numbers scrawled on napkins add up.

By the end of it, Jin’s hair is more than pulled through. Plush lips pursed and bitten. As far as he can tell this is all by the book, these assets do not belong to the criminal empire but they do belong to you and Yoongi. Jin's FBI brain just can't shut off, not now and not ever.

The truth is, this is more money than any of them have ever dreamed of having, even Namjoon- who makes well into the 6 figures. This is enough money for everyone in the pack to quit their jobs and retire. They probably wouldn't ever run out even if they were foolish with the money, but even then it might last until they're 50.

He gestures at Namjoon wildly. “You need to quit your job,” you sip at the lemonade that Namjoon got up to get you a few minutes ago.

Nodding, teasing. “Yeah Joonie, become my live-in alpha, stay home with me like Taetae does now.”

Your and Yoongi’s accounts are mostly joint, the loose division between Geumjae's multi-million-dollar life insurance policy payout and Yoongi’s inheritance of the min family fortune only in mind mostly. But you’re on each other’s accounts as mates anyway.

Jin should have known, he knows Yoongi paid for the house in cash.

Namjoon laughs, dimples flashing, stooping to kiss your forehead. “You’re supposed to be my sugar baby.”

“We can trade off and on if it makes you feel better.”

~-~

It’s a soft night when you seek Jin out next. The blinds are drawn against the streetlights outside. The cul-de-sac is empty except for Noodle, hunting little mice in the brush. Inside the house with lip-up yellow windows, the pack is in various spaces of dress and undress, asleep and awake.

The one consistency as always, is the love.

The last time you checked, most of the pack was in the back room. Jin had unanimously decided for all your sakes that Jungkook's video games should go back there, the farthest away from the stairwell where sounds have a habit of echoing. Where their shouts and cries of dismay will not disturb the rest of the pack quite so much.

When you last peered in, Jungkook had Yoongi in his lap and Jimin and Tae were screaming and bickering over the right way to play something called prop hunt. Hobi reigns victorious with a green controller held over over a bowl of popcorn balanced between his crossed legs. They don't always do this, and you're resistant to sour their time with your lack of knowledge and lack of interest.

Namjoon is passed out upstairs, tired from his surgery today; a marathon 14-hour one to detangle a tumor from a patient's brainstem. Luckily successful or else Namjoon might have been weighed down by something more than just exhaustion.

You’d gone up there briefly to shower with him because he honestly needed someone to make sure he didn’t fall asleep in the shower but he’d been adamant that he didn’t need help. You’d asked ever so sweetly if you could do it with him for company. You missed out on the pack shower yesterday you whine, Namjoon has a hard time saying no when you pout.

Namjoon was too tired for anything salacious in nature and also too tired to protest against some grooming. You’d made him sit on the bench along the wall and washed his hair and body. Groaning and resting his head against your chest where you’d stood between his legs. He’d collapsed into bed so tired he could hardly mumble a thank you, but you’d still bent over and kissed his head before joining the others downstairs.

It felt good, to take care of him a little. Dr.Rima suggested that you make a bit more effort to spend time one-on-one with your packmates, and it’s been mostly a good thing.

You know soon you’ll all be up there. Cuddled to his chest probably, tired Joonie cuddles are the best when he lays all soft and heavy without worrying that he's going to crush you. But not yet. You’re not looking for the others shouting in the other room, you’re looking for a different sort of company.

Jin is in the living room, his glasses down on the edge of his nose as his eyes indulge in a copy of psychology today. There are several pages already flipped down and bookmarked already. You stand in the hallway. The pajamas you wear are some of the first Jin and Namjoon ever gave you, the white top and bottom dotted with red hearts.

They used to look so pristine and clean but love and time have done its damage. There’s an orange stain on the middle from some tomato soup a few weeks ago, and the bottoms are a little discolored from a late-night trip to the beach that left the hem soaked deep with sand. Even though the pajama set has seen better days, the non-irritating crepe fabric is worn in all the right places and it's still your favorite.

All things given with love eventually wear out (to love it to be changed) so you won’t be too upset about it. At first, you think that Jin doesn’t notice that you’re standing there, that you’re watching him, but he wordlessly holds out an arm without looking up from his magazine.

You collapse with him onto the couch. Lining your bodies up your bare ankle hits his. A small purr builds in his chest as a sleepy hello. “The others are being noisy,” you complain, it’s true, from here you can hear Hobi shout something like “hyung that is so not fair-“ and Jungkook shrieking “Kill him!! Kill him!!!”

“Want me to make them quiet for you sweetheart?” He asks, kissing your cheek softly. He shifts his position so that he can hold the magazine with just one hand and his other can stroke up and down your arm. Encircling your body in one smooth movement. You don’t pay the copy of Psychology Today much mind.

“No, just want to be quiet with you.” You stretch out and Jin parts his legs for you to recline into him. Letting out a small heavy breath when you lie your weight against his chest nosing at his throat. He continues to read in silence while you nose at his throat, mouthing sleepily and pupish at his scent gland.

He makes a noise, legs stretching out properly. But he has no other reaction until you ask, “What are you reading?”

Jin lets out a heavy breath, and the pages make a fluttering sound, “A debrief of a study that happened before pesky things like ethics was involved with psychological testing," You huff a soft laugh against this chin and Jin rests his cheek against the top of your head.

"It’s a little heavy, but I think you'd actually find it interesting because of-" Jin breaks off, and that word, the dirty one, therapy, hovers on the edge of his tongue. He looks back at the magazine and shifts you more properly on top of his chest. Your hand's toy with the button on his sleep shirt, undoing it and then another one. "Want me to read it out to you?”

You peck below his chin on his neck, and you can feel Jin’s body twitch beneath you, his hand going a little firmer. "Sure, just not the whole thing” The words on the page are small small. "You can just tell me what it’s about if that's easier."

Having you suck at his scent gland is distracting, and Jin’s voice goes a little deeper as you continue to lavish it with little kisses. the tops of his ears heating as he talks. Jin's neck has always been sensitive.

“In a time before ethics in the 1950s, in an effort to quantify willpower, a psychologist out of John Hopkins conducted an experiment on rats.”

You continue to kiss, and suck, teething on his neck, all cuddled ontop of him. Only half paying attention to what he’s saying, your hips shifting to nestle one of his thighs between. Not pressing down, not just yet.

“There were two test groups. The first group of rats was left in approximately 12 inches of water and left to drown."

You stop your shifting, pulling back a little to look at Jin, but he keeps reading. Lips carving the words roughly from the air in summary. Attention fixed on the paper in front of him, eyebrows pulled together.

“The average rat could only last around 30 minutes before drowning but-“ Jin swallows, and you feel it against your throat. “If the testers took them out just before they lost energy and dried them off…If they gave them a moment to rest, something to eat, before putting them back in the water they’d last hours longer. Sometimes a full day before eventually scumming.

"This only led them to one conclusion: If the rats believed they were going to be saved again they would try longer to survive, tapping into a hidden source of willpower. Hope has a dirastic increase on survival rates.” He still hasn’t looked at you. Index finger sliding over the last paragraph.

He continues to read his magazine, a hand loosely wrapped around your waist. Palm rubbing up and down your back. You shrivel your nose at the paper, “It sounds cruel.”

“It was.”

You think of the rats, their dried fur, the hands that saved them, and the hands that hurt them. Indistinguishable from one another. You shiver. Jin doesn't look at you, still at the magazine.

“This article is trying to relate it to patient outcomes, especially when it comes to giving therapy to military members half way through deployment. It’s never been replicated; a lot of people don’t think it’s factual anymore.”

“What do you think?” Jin doesn’t turn to you, instead turning the page to another article, this one about new antipsychotics for schizophrenia.

“I think it’s hard to test for things like hope.”

You pause for a second and then continue to drag your lips up Jin’s throat, and the magazine lands with a flop on the floor all the stories about rats and dying things and both of Jin’s arms embrace you.

“I’m being terribly rude; I normally talk about all this stuff with Namjoon.”

You huff, smile pressed to his skin. It’s easy to forget about the rats when you’ve got him close and giving you his full attention now. You’ll think about it later you’re too sleepy now, a little scent drunk too. Jin’s body is comfy and soft beneath yours, you nuzzle closer, hair getting messed on account of the rigorousness of your scent marking.

You unbutton the last button on his sleep shirt and push it away so that you can loop your arms around his waist, and the next breath that fills Jin's diaphragm feels shaky. you like jin's chest, his stomach, theres something about cuddling close to him like this that makes you feel taken care of.

You don't know that Jin likes it when you touch him like this, with a certain level of entitlement. Of course, you're allowed to disrobe him on the couch, of course, his body belongs to you in this way. He's your pack omega for a reason, Jin's body and scent belong as much to you as any of the other packmates. Any of his packmate's wants will be handled just as routinely as this. If you want him bare, he'll undress for you right here.

It's a good thing that he closed the blinds earlier.

Your pout makes him want to give you everything, Jin's hands tighten on your waist, pulling the hem of your pajama shirt up too so that your bare stomachs can rest against each other. Fuck. something about this always makes Jin's skin feel hot and taught. “You are.” you whine, pecking his lips sloppy and needy, licking into them a bit, "make it up to me?"

Jin’s hands go hard on your back, fluttering along your spine to the back of your neck. And his scent blooms sweet underneath you. “Ah Jungkook’s been rubbing off on you. My spoiled spoiled little pup.”

Jin’s hair against your neck tickles and you giggle as he pulls you more firmly on top of him, after the first kiss you’re not thinking about him ignoring you in favor of reading, and after the 5th you don’t even remember what the article was about.

You’ll think about it later, for now, the scent of the two of you sweetens in the room. Until it fills the house, so sweet that even Namjoon upstairs stirs, growling softly.

You'll think about it later.

~-~

Your therapy days have become something of a celebration. Is it weird that you're surprised by that? Of course, the pack would come to celebrate you getting better. Of course they would linger and reward you for trying to hard.

They’ve always liked to make big things out of small ones. Your therapy sessions have become mini-impromptu dates. Each of them takes their time and their day to take you.

It’s important to prioritize one-on-one time in large packs. To still date even when they’re very little wooing left to do. Even if everything sort of feels like a date with them. the intention is different when you name it.

They take their turns going with you. Namjoon when he has a rare day off. To the botanical gardens after just to give you some reason to get out of the cold and into the humidity. You take Hobi back there when it’s time for your next one.

The gardens help keep any seasonal depression at bay, with all the trees skeletal and the sky grey more often than not. You go with Tae the next time and then to a bookstore after. You get a new notebook while she looks at the covers with wide beholden eyes.

Today, you don’t know if you’ll get something so sweet after.

Today doesn't feel like the rest of the therapy sessions. The sessions with Dr. Rima aren't always easy. You don’t know why this visit in particular has you anxious but it does. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, a vague tingle in your fingertips. You can't not think about it. It's a little maddening, feeling like you don't have control over your thoughts.

You get ready hours earlier than you need to because you need something to do. But then find yourself with nothing to do. Waiting. Pacing.

You pick at your nailbeds until they bleed. Bad, bad pup.

The breath in your chest is a little taught and tight, like an overfilled balloon. There is no one but Tae home today, although Jimin will be here soon to take you to your appointment. You don’t want to feel this way. But you don’t know how to solve it on your own. You don’t want to disturb Tae.

Tae being home all the time now has been a good thing generally. But it’s also been distracting for both of you. Why would you spend time helping Yoongi with the house when you can cuddle up with her in her library room or nest with her upstairs? Why would she spend her time writing when she's got you underfoot?

Yesterday you did just that, Until the little kisses sloppy kisses, and nervous touches turned less little and more lingering. Hands firm and possessive, although there was no one for Tae to possess you from. moving against each other until the seat of your pajama bottoms were soaked through with slick. Until Tae's fingers stopped rubbing over you, stopped teasing. Crooning, "Oh pup, let mommy fix it."

It was the first time since Jungkook and your little mishap, that you'd sought out sex from Tae. It left you feeling glowy and a little dumb. A little ravenous for her touch, you wince when you think of how demanding you'd gotten. Tae's knot had left you feeling sore in a good way. A faint tenderness between your legs tempts you again to nest the day away.

Baby steps. Dr. Rima reminded you last session.

But you know you distract Tae from her writing. She'd said as much, cuddled to the side, fingers tucked into your cunt not even fucking you with them, just holding you. Grinning dumbly. "If you don't keep this sweet little hole away from me, I'll never get anything done. I don't know how Yoongi does it."

After yesterday, you know that she wants to get some real work in. She'd left the breakfast table saying that much. You've heard her leave a handful of times since then. To get water or snacks.

It’s not always easy, going to therapy, not feeling upset about it or vaguely afraid. You thought the instinct against being vulnerable had been trained out of you by the pack. it's hard to unlearn old habits.

Part of you wants to run away from her, not towards her as you knock on the library door. There's a soft throaty noise that you recognize as Tae's, inviting you to come in. She clicks away on her computer, not looking up at you.

You stand there in the doorway rocking on your heels for a moment. Her fingers fly across the keyboard, and her headphones are off one ear. Sometimes she gets so into her writing that her music shuts off and she forgets to turn it on. There is no hum coming from them and yet, she does not turn to you when you stand in the doorway.

“Tae?”

She does not react, and your shoulders curl in, the ache of being a bother intensifying. Her clicking. You waiting. You wait until you can't any longer, the fear building-

“Mommy?”

Tae stops immediately, her wide brown eyes coquettish in how she looks at you (like she doesn’t know exactly what you want. What you need). Her eyes flick down to your knocking knees.

She opens her arms and you fall into her, quickly you rush to be enveloped by her touch. Needy. You are always so needy for her. With Tae, it's hard to be self-conscious about it.

Since she’s been spending so much time at home, she’s taken to wearing flimsy little nightdresses at all hours of the day. Today's dress is white with cream-colored lace, down to her knees, rucked up by your sitting. fuzzy slippers and a thick robe keep out the chill. She probably doesn't even realize that it's midday, as focused and as dedicated as she is.

"Ah, baby pup,"

You nuzzle into the collar where her robe has soaked up her scent more. You know she kinda misses getting ready every day, that she misses doing her makeup and leaving for work like the rest of them. You’d promised that you’d accompany her to a coffee shop one of the days this week that you didn’t have therapy. Just so that she could get out of the house.

All of this takes Adjustments. You’re both learning to ask for what you want and to endure what you know you need. Like the therapy sessions.

The clock says that you have exactly 2 more hours until you need to leave with Jiminie but he’s not home yet. He’s not home yet and neither is Yoongi but your brain is swimming. Knots in your tummy. You don't want to go but you don't want to not go either. You don't know how to stop feeling this way, so torn up about it.

You need a settling.

“I don’t want to bother you, if you want to go back to writing you can- I’ll just-"

Tae catches your chin in her manicured hand. “What do you need.”

It’s more of a command than a question. You sit there and Tae’s looking. Scrutinizing you, breaking you down with just a single look. Your arms tighten around her shoulders, clinging to her when it becomes clear your neediness hasn’t escaped her notice. This thing clawing at your chest to be settled, to be constrained, is something she can handle.

Your response comes out of you in a rush, a franticness to your scent that isn’t becoming of Tae’s softest little pup.

“Can you make my brain shut off please?”

half plea and half polite. Tae’s hand instantly laces through your hair, tugging hard. A taught whine bursts from you. Any other time you’d be ashamed of the noise you let out but she only purrs in contentment.

She pulls on your hair gently, making you arch your neck until you can't anymore like she's testing how far you're willing to contort your body to obey her touch. Teasing your shoulders apart, making you not hunch without you consciously deciding to shift your posture (one of these days, Jin and Tae are going to posture train you).

The kiss she plants in the hollow of your throat is nothing if not understanding. You're so pliant and malleable when you're overwhelmed. The breathless whine you let out is not sexual, there simply isn't room for any more wanting when the fullest breath of Tae’s dominance rushes over you like a wave.

Tae never raises her voice and never snaps. She doesn't need to to get you to do what she wants. She doesn't need to force it. Your eyes are glassy when she lets go, smiling down at you as her fingers linger over your lips before she cups your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the joint until it opens. There you go pup, breathe.

“I’m going to tell you what to do, and it’s your job to do as I say pup, do you understand?”

“Yes Mommy.”

“I don’t want to hear another word out of you that isn’t 'Yes Mommy' or 'No Mommy'. It’s not your job to speak right now.” That somehow, being given permission feels like a relief. That's why you're anxious, isn't it? You want to go non-verbal today, but can't because of the session. Tae gives you relief in the form of permission.

“Yes Mommy.”

“Good, now sit on the floor.” Your knees go weak before you even hear the full sentence, and she grabs your arms hard when you stop to drop. Making your descent more controlled.

“Wait,” you hold your breath while Tae stands, retrieving one of the pillows on the couch and setting it down for your knees. She really ought to have thought of this before and set up the dark alcove beneath her desk with something softer, a thick cushion (If only she had a pup bed for you). The space is dark and warm, next to the heater, you drop, and Tae scoots closer, hands still on your upper arms as she guides you.

“Rest your head on Mommy’s thigh, stay put and quiet until Minnie gets home. I’ll cuddle you when you’re done. To bring you back up”

Your lips form the words without you having to think them, your brain already fluttering down softly into a lower state of concern and anxiety. Rhere is nothing that matters but this, there is only her. Her hands haven’t really left your hair, long nails scratching dully against your scalp. “Yes Mommy.”

“What do you say.” Tae’s words are clean and precise. No mincing them as she holds your chin and makes you look at her, finger fluttering across your lower lip and freeing it from between your teeth. "If you need to bite something, bite me. Not yourself."

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“Good girl.”

You rest your cheek against Tae’s thigh, not peering up her skirt because you don’t think she’d allow you to. It’s hazy and soft here, in the quiet under her desk. The light is warm and so is this place. Her warm calf pressed to your front, your fingers grabbing blindly at the hollow of her knee, her foot just beneath you curled around her thigh.

She needs both hands to write but you wrap your arms around her leg. Smooth. Your fingers skim up and down the skin there hugging her to your chest weakly, resting your cheek on her thigh. “That’s a good pup get closer.”

Encouraged to cling You move until Tae's leg is pressed from your core to your chin, sideways between her thighs, resting your cheek on the edge of her skirt, between her hip and thigh, looking up at her. Just looking.

The hormone shots make Tae’s scent glands sensitive and swollen under your touch, and you’re brazen enough to lap at the ones on her thighs, soothing them. You can smell that they're hurting, somehow your instincts tell you. her scent only smells strange where where injects them, a little artificial, a little sour from the pain. but mostly it's just Tae.

Your fingers curling the hollow of her knees, breathing in deep. Your brain is a mess of mommy mommy mommy over and over again like a hymn and prayer. Her long manicured fingers press at your scalp scratching. And your eyelashes flutter shut.

"Is this good my love?” She asks hesitantly, if you were more aware you might hear a bit of insecurity in her voice. You can only whine in response.

There is only Tae, her clacking on her computer, backspacing a bunch, and then writing more. A quiet hum under her breath. And the occasional gentle pet over the top of your head when she reads through certain paragraphs and doesn't need the use of both her hands.

you don't know when you close your eyes or if you fall asleep, the state you enter is kind of like that, if dissociation could be pleasant, it feels like that. Honed in, every single one of your instincts with a laser focus on her, everywhere you touch, humming and alive and as necessary as the breath in your lungs.

Soft huffs of breath tease the hem of her skirt. And the next time you're aware, it's because there's another scent in the air.

Vanilla, the smoky sort coats your tongue, complimenting your mommy's scent so beautifully. Enough that your tongue sticks out between your pressed teeth to taste it in the air.

Alpha, another one, not your mommy is here and you tilt your face up and into the light. You hear the soft smacking sound of brief kisses, and then another hand on your head running through your hair, tugging you to look up at him. Tae taps your tongue playfully and you open your mouth, wanting to suck.

"Ah pup, you're too small for that right now," You look up.

Jimin has his hand softly tangled in Tae's hair, tentative- like the touch has been negotiated- like he's not sure he's allowed. Tae's scent has not sweetened, it hasn't even mellowed out.

Jimin blinks once, twice, and then a third time at the sight that he sees. Eyes wide and glassy, scent sweet, not in that pleasure or I’ve just cum way that’s semi-addictive to the alpha's. He rolls him roll his tongue against his teeth when he can scent it. This kind of pleasure is a different kind of fullness.

A happy shiver works its way up Jimin’s body, and Tae hums, she’s only used to seeing him shiver for her.

“You’re in no state to go to leave the house” but Jimin’s voice is not disapproving, if anything it’s honey velvet fond. Tae shifts back and you move with her, letting out a small whine at the sudden vacancy against your front where you’d been hugging her to your chest.

it’s easily extinguished when Jimin picks you up and places you on the couch where she’s waiting. Alpha's so good and strong, your instincts pur and Jimin freezes. He hasn't heard you purr so much as Tae has, as the others have. But it makes goosebumps rise on his arms.

You whine, squirming closer. When he supports you.

“Hold on pup,” but Tae is already smearing the scent blockers on. You whine, but you know she needs it if you want to be clear-headed by the time you have to leave. Scent drunk and pupish is not an adequate mindset to get the most out of therapy. And you're reminded of that by Jimin, that's why Alpha's here isn't he? That's why he's softly detangling your hair, asking you questions until you answer with more than mumbles.

Your hair has fallen over your face and jimin tries unsuccessfully to do more than tuck it behind your ear.

She laughs, and it's half real, "Minnie. Like this." Jimin flushes, but you sit, gladly made a puppet while she teaches him how to braid. over. under. Tae puts some distance between herself and you until the room has stopped spinning, until you stop smelling only alpha and other things too.

You're much more clear headed when Tae presses a glass of cold water into your hands. Jimin listlessly stimming up and down your arms, the gentle tugging making you blink back the haze. Still quiet, but mostly back to yourself.

Jimin puts you in Tae’s coat, one of the cute quilted ones with a floral outside, warm and snuggly. Tae kisses your flushed cheeks in the doorway, promising more of…whatever that was when you get home.

Jimin always smells so nice, a nice mixture of cigarette smoke, barely hidden and washed away, and his vanilla musk, warm against your nose. He buckles you into the front seat when you sit, leans over to kiss your temple, hand hovering on your knee.

Minnie has always been a touchy alpha and the drive to the therapist’s office is no different. He always gets so close when it’s just the two of you, like he no longer has the others to distract him or needs to make up the lack of protection with touch.

You are just as quiet as you are close on the way to therapy, Jimin's hand loosely twined with yours on the driver's seat. Your phone buzzes occasionally.

Kookoocachoo (3:22): Hey just realized, it might be easier for me to like meet you and Minnie there, rather than for Yoongi to come all the way here and pick me up from work like usual???

Yoomie (3:23): Are you sure? It's really no trouble.

Kookoocachoo (3:24): Yeah makes no sense, I can run it in like 15 minutes!

Jinnie <3 (3:24): Just be careful!

And then in your private chat, there is this:

Yoomie (3:27): Fuck must have just missed you.

Yoomie (3:27): just got home.

Yoomie (3:28): Make sure Jimin texts when you're on the way home.

You know that Yoongi feels like he needs to come with you to every session, but honestly it's okay. The quiet with Jimin. It's a little nice. Not nice in the way that you don't miss him (because you always sort of miss Yoongi, even if he's barely an inch away). But just like when it's just you and Yoongi when it's just you and Jimin; neither of you needs to pretend.

You (3:30): It's okay! Minnie will take good care of me.

You (3:30): See!

You send him a picture of your clasped hands, Jimin's face a little blurry from how much the car is moving.

Yoomie (3:30): Cute. Good 😚

Yoomie (3:31): Literally I can come to meet you. It's no trouble.

You (3:32): 😑

He leads you inside with his hand laced in yours. Jimin’s commanding aura directs other alphas into looking away when their gazes happen to stray to you. Staying close, scanning the crowd for potential threats, tugging you along with your hand behind him quiet.

You and Jimin are often quiet when you’re together, but it’s that kind of soft understanding silence. Jimin speaks with his body.

You’re quiet when he kisses your forehead when your fingers tangle loosely with his, his fingers listlessly stimming with yours tapping tap tap across your knuckles in the waiting room, taking your coat when you tug at the sleeves, small and overheated. Small, you have small hands like his but he likes it, he taps your knuckles and you tap his rings.

“I like this one,” you say in the quiet of the yellow waiting room.

“You do?” Jimin says, already planning on either buying you a matching one or wearing it more often. You tap it again.

But it’s comforting, the way his fingers tease at the hair at the edge of your hairline. Constantly touching you like he’s reinforcing the idea that you’re there still safe. The contact is just firm enough for any lingering fear to fade.

He gets more antsy when the time comes for you to go into the room with Dr.Rima. Just like Yoongi did, he won’t leave the waiting room for the entirety of your hour-long appointment. Jimin whips his hands on his black jeans as he stands and shakes Dr.Rima's hands.

“I’m sorry she might not be in the best-”

You bound up to Dr.Rima and hug her loosely around her waist, she recoils slightly, not upset, just surprised. Most of her omega patients go physically affectionate after a few sessions. Her eyes go wide as you start to prattle on about Tae. Taetae this and Taetae that.

“Oh!” but Dr. Rima isn’t at all upset that you’re a touch too close to omegaspace to have a coherent conversation. Even though Jimin apologizes again and grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you away. “That’s quite alright, I suspected something like this would happen since we talked about O.s. last session.”

Jimin lingers, worries over letting you go through the door. It only takes a few seconds in her presence for your brain to right itself. Beta- not your beta but a strange one. The pheromonal response is near instant. You step away, eyes more lucid, cheeks warming in embarrassment.

Dr.Rima laughs and Jimin can’t help himself either, an unwilling grin cracking his smile open.You apologize, but Dr. Rima just shakes her head and tells you there's nothing to be sorry for.

“It's not all that abnormal. A lot of omegas who have been in traumatic experiences fall into omegaspace abnormally often, like 30-40 percent more often than omegas who haven’t-”

~-~

After the therapy session, you’re much more clearheaded. You didn’t cry this time but then again you’ve only cried for half of them. It's a calm clean feeling. You find Jimin again in the waiting room, texting on his phone, you've got half a hundred unanswered notifications. The simple contact of a hello hug is just firm enough for the last bit of discomfort and anxiety you had to fade.

“Good?” he asks, low alpha growl soothing,

“Yeah” answer, the reassurance simple but enough. You have plans to meet up with Jungkook at the coffee shop across the street- not the one downstairs, separated by a narrow stretch of road that’s closed on the weekends for foot traffic.

It’s gotten colder in the time of your therapy appointment, and the wind rushes over you funneled down the narrow streets. The sweatshirt of Hobi’s you wear today is stiff and dark, non-descript. Jimin tugs you under his arm, even after he puts Tae's jacket back on you.

“They’d kill me if they saw you shivering.” You nuzzle closer. And you sense he’s burning with questions. He keeps them in until you're in line at the cafe. It's got a dark tile floor and a similarly dark interior, minimalistic and vaguely retro with a row of bar stools and a line of black pleather booths. A few people are in line in front of you and a few behind, no one who might matter overhearing.

“What do you talk about with her?”

“A lot of things, Geumjae mostly.” Jimin wilts a little. His eyes turning a little darker with shame. You wish you were able to more accurately predict his emotions and make the truth less lethal. But somehow, you think Jimin would know if you tried to lie, you won’t spare him honesty for guilt. That’s not a fair trade.

Your foot skitters across the tile. Kicking the rough edge uselessly before your feet. “It’s good to like, talk it out with someone who’s not you guys, mostly because I worry it burdens you.”

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow. “Why would it burden us?” you sigh, and you do not want to pull your punches.

“I don’t know. Why haven’t you talked it out with Tae yet?” Jimin does not wince. Jimin just looks at you and hands over his black card to the barista.

“What do you want?”

“Just a latte,”

“A latte and a triple shot,” Jimin jabs a finger at the glass cage where they keep the pretty pastries, naming half a dozen things.

“I didn’t say I wanted one,” Jimin raises his eyebrow, and you melt a little into him. Because yeah, you want one even if you didn't say it, you're just being contrary.

Leaning, he takes your weight, guiding you to stand away from the counter when he takes his card back. To the barista, you must just look like any other clingy couple. Something about Jimin makes you forget that you have an audience. Something about Jimin makes it feel like it’s always just you. His fingers are calloused (probably from a gun) and cold from walking outside. Clutching your hand softly.

“Tae and I will talk.” He sighs, but it sounds like the truth. He sounds so sure of himself. “We will just- I can tell she doesn’t want to talk with me. I never want to do anything she doesn’t want to do. You get that right?”

You think about Jimin- everything he’s ever done, your afternoon in the backroom where he and you made the painting in Tae’s library room. How giving he was then and how giving he always is. Jimin gives and gives and now looking at him, the curve to his shoulders, you wonder what he feels like he has to make up for.

Why he can't be the one to ask? To make it better. You know it's probably just respect (respect for Tae's wants and needs) but maybe sometimes respect gives too much distance. Maybe there is no love without mutually assured destruction.

Maybe you shouldn't be so critical of him. He got you pastries, even though you didn’t ask, just in case you wanted them.

His eyes are downcast, and when your coffee comes out, he sniffs at it before asking. “Milk? Sugar?” He hands it over and takes it back after you’ve taken a sip.

“Yeah,” Jimin pops off the lid and sets it up, not letting you lift a finger. Hitting the packets against the counter to break them up. He rips the sugar packets with his teeth.

Jimin speaks more as he pours them out, “Even if she’s still mad at me, I’ll wait until not being mad at me is what she wants. I can handle her being mad and disappointed, what I can’t handle is her not loving me. If she didn’t care at all, I’d be more worried. She’ll come to me when she’s ready.”

“I don’t’ think this waiting is helping anyone.”

Jimin takes a sip of his coffee. “I’ll talk to her, if you think I should. I’ll bring it up if you think I’m letting it stew too long.”

You nod and sip your coffee, your phone jingles, and you look at it, it's just Jungkook, letting you know he's leaving the gym now. The selfie of him makes you smile. The jingle of your phone is interrupted by a similar jingle. The door to the coffee shop opened.

When you look up you almost do a double take, but the face sinking through the crowd enters just like the winter chill.

Moonbyul is absent from her usual entourage, not Hyejin, wheein, or Solar. wearing a thick wool coat over a smart 3 peice suit. She smiles showing her teeth a little too much. your smile falls just as quickly.

"Minnie"

Jimin is not quick enough to stand before she's upon you. he's up and out of the booth before he even sees who and what is making you scared. Jimin stands and growls, the sound alerting a few of the other people in the coffee shop. But Moonbyul just tuts. "Down puppy."

You find yourself lost for words. especially when she slides in and sets her coffees down. barely two breaths and she's there smiling at you. Jimin sits next to you, tilting his body almost over yours.

A moment passes in the silence where you take her in.

"What? Aren't you happy to see me? No warm welcome this time?" Her smile is like that of a cat. She already has a coffee, two of them in her hands.

Something isn't right. Somethings wrong. You don't know what it is as you look up at her. You stay quiet.

"Aren't you going to invite me to sit?"

Your brain finally gets back online, through the roaring in your ears. your voice sounds strange. Professional even to you. "Somehow I think you will anyway."

She sits, and Jimin's body is taught like a rubber band waiting to snap. Hands under the table, glaring at her like he wants to kill her. He probably does. He's probably already planning it.

Think think think, come on.

“It’s nice to see you happy, though less nice that it’s not with us.” Moonbyul’s words are almost acidic in how she spits them. Bitter. More bitter than she should be.

You grip the sleeves of your sweatshirt for comfort and you watch her nostrils flare, you wonder if she can smell Hobi on it. Suddenly- you don’t like the idea that she might know his scent, that she’d know any of your pack’s scents. Tae's included. She'd scented you so heavily earlier there's no way Moonbyul doesn't smell her on you.

You still feel like a schoolgirl under her gaze. But you’re not the same shattered omega you were when you needed their help to survive. And that has never been clearer than right now.

(If you’re being honest. You never did need her help. yoongi is the one who made sure you survived, she's just the one who helped you get revenge)

“I am happy,” it’s a simple fact but it only seems to anger them more. as her smile falters.

“Bullshit” she says delicately. (Did the snake in Eden whisper or shout? To what voice and tone is temptation but this, an unwanted earworm.) She tilts her head. "If you were happy, you wouldn't need Sharon. Or should I say- Dr. Rima."

You go cold, dripping fear seeping down your back. You swallow back your questions. It doesn't surprise you, that was one of the things that Geumjae always coached you about- not going to the authorities, not saying anything to anyone who might talk. How long has she been in Moonbyul’s pocket is another question that you'll answer later.

You feel strangely hollow at the betrayal. Hollower still when she looks at you, smiling. red lips lifting. She can tell she's unnerving you. Beside Jimin, you quake. His hand goes firm on your wrist. Squeezing once before he lets go.

The click of a knocking pin on a gun is unmistakable. Jimin smiles, resting his chin on his right hand. You don’t need to ask what the other one is doing. How he got the gun out from where it was tucked in his waistband, his underarm saddles, or where it came from is inconsequential.

“Careful.” His voice is a lethal purr, the iris of his eyes glinting red from the Eddison bulbs over the countertop. Reflecting them. “I’ll take a lot of jabs lying down but a threat” Jimin murmurs. “That might make me angry.”

Moonbyul does not look unnerved by Jimin’s exterior the falling of his most delicate disguise. Jimin looks and smells lethal, but so does Moonbyul. “You seem to be enjoying the claws my organization awards you, remember who sharpens them will you.” She makes a flippant movement with her hands. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Bullshit” Jimin parrots, “she’s my omega.”

Moonbyul laughs at that, loud enough that it drags the attention to you from other tables. A small pup is sitting across the isle from you with it's parents, a fluffy teadybear onsie pulled around its wiggling feet. Babbling and waving its hands, excited and making eye contact.

Your hand finds Jimin’s under the table, hand on the gun, making him put it away. Desperate. “Not here Minnie. Not-“

“If anyone has a claim on her, it’s certainly not alpha trash like you.” You can sense Jimin’s anger growing thinner, the tether between action and complacency going taught. You make your eyes wider, your scent sweeter, furrowing your eyebrows at Moonbyul like you’re just some confused little omega pup. You know the effect your scent has on alphas, and you hope the sweetness is enough for both of them.

“If you really care about me, shouldn’t my happiness be the thing you prioritize?”

Moonbyul searches for her phone and finds it in her wallet, checking it before she puts it around her shoulder. behaving like there isn't a loaded Gun pointing right at her abdomen. The chain jingles and you notice it’s the same make and model of wallet that Jimin bought you so many months ago, for your first courting date. You met her in such a similar circumstance that night.

You wonder how much she knows, how much she's been watching you. the intel she's gathered.

“You sound like you’re reciting something that they’ve told you.” she reaches across the table and cups your cheek. Her nails, they’re not normal, you can feel it the second they touch your cheeks, they’re metal-tipped, not just the usual gel extensions. “If your alphas ever tell you that, you should know they’re lying.”

Her fingers dig a little, and Jimin reaches across the table and yanks her wrist. Slapping it. They're both standing, alpha aggression urged into action before you have a chance to process what's happening. Standing between them until Jimin effortlessly puts you behind his back. Growing larger in the small space. He's the same size as her but it doesn't feel that way, his scent so obtrusive that several people around you fall quiet.

She flicks her hand, but she doesn’t scratch you hard enough to draw blood.

And then the truth: she hisses, it spits it, something feral and dangerous in her eyes that you only saw in those moments in her nest what feels like years ago. That nest never felt like the omegas or Hyejin's. Any nest that was ever in their den always felt like hers. Moonbyul is the kind of alpha that claims everything she touches and your cheeks burn where she held you.

“You should have never been Yoongi’s. You should have known that and returned to us in a timely manner.”

Once upon a time, you would have felt safe enough to say what you thought around Moonbyul and her pack but that time has long past. To call them hostile is an understatement. You’re not an idiot, no matter what they might think of you or how many years younger you might be.

“I’m not convinced that you met us here unintentionally.”

Moonbyul hums, all but a confession. She disengages with Jimin almost instantly. “We’ll be seeing more of each other soon.” She reaches across the table to get both of her coffee cups. A flourish of her wool coat sends her peppermint scent fluffing over yours, and you shrivel your nose.

You’d have thought that Moonbyul’s anger would smell stronger, but honestly- she just smells sickly sweet, like the first pop of peppermint gum. Almost crumbly. Like the fake snow that they put on fake Christmas trees. Artificial.

Her metal-tipped fingers tighten the waistband on her coat. She looks at you while she tightens it.

She turns without another word and seconds later the door is clanging and Jungkook is there, shirt rucked up and not wearing his jacket, sweaty abbs on display probably just because he’s overheated from running here. His grin is boyish when he spots both you and Jimin. Popping out his headphones, walking past Moonbyul, not her any mind even though you hold your breath.

“God Wonho put me through my fucking paces today, had us do this wicked circuit-” Jungkook’s expression falls, exercise high fading when he takes in you and Jimin, the anxious edge to your scents, “What's wrong?! Both of you look-” you struggle, and Jimin muscles his way around you.

“Just- bad therapy session.” You choke out. Still reeling.

“Oh!” Jungkook’s eyes go bunny wide, “oh- just here-“ Jungkook pulls you in, nuzzling over your hairline, scenting you a little.

In the window, you can see them. Hyejin is there, the person who Moonbyul must have been meeting. The other coffee is in her hands now. You watch as her hand tightens around the paper cup. Crushing it and sending hot milky liquid onto the concrete. In the thrum of people, it's hardly noticed. Jungkook scent marks over the top of your head and Moonbyul pulls Hyejin into a waiting blacked-out car that quickly speeds off.

Jimin watches it too, stoic.

“I think she’s going into heat,” Jimin says, lying effortlessly. Jungkook instantly straightens. Leaning in to sniff at your shoulder.

"Minnie, I don't-"

“Stay with her here while I get the car.” It's in the garage, top floor. Jimin is already moving, gun stowed away. Jungkook’s hands tighten on the top of your arms.

“Wait!” you struggle, Jungkook’s eyes on you, you settle, “alpha I can’t- can’t be separated from you.”

there is no emotion on jimin's face, none at all. “No- too dangerous.”

If you let Jimin go alone, something bad is going to happen. You can feel it in your bones. You slip out of Jungkook’s grasp, hovering in the doorway, cold air billowing around you as Jimin heads off down the sidewalk.

“Stay here Jungkook. I’m serious, don’t move.” whatever jungkook says is swallowed by the door closing behind you. You chase after Jimin. He’s walking briskly, just fast enough that it doesn’t draw suspicion in the crowd. If you had to call his walk something, you'd call it a prowl.

“Go back and stay with Jungkook.”

“It’s crowded there, he’ll be fine.”

“You know other people don’t mean shit. I’ve killed people in more crowded places.” It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, but the same might not be true for us. The unwritten confession, but you can’t be sure.

“No.”

Jimin hovers, a feeling rocking through him, and then he’s tugging you along, shucking his jacket off in one fluid movement. There is a bulge in his baggy sweater, the gun hidden by the excess fabric. you wonder if Jimin favors clothes twice as big because he needs them this way.

You can see the subtle criss cross of the bands under his shirt. The leather jacket is heavy on your shoulders and stiffer, Your fingers flutter across it.

"It’s reinforced with body armor- not enough to stop a bullet at point blank, but a far-off shot-“ he cuts through the crowd of people. It’s after work now, and the streets are thick with window shoppers intending to get an early start on holiday shopping.

Above you the sky hovers, darker, the clouds closing in. Snow starts to fall, fluttering by your eyes sticking to Hobi's black sweatshirt. The first of the year. Your walk to the car is tense and quick, your short legs struggling to keep up as Jimin pulls you along. One Hand itching always ready to yank out the gun from his back pocket. The other circling your wrist.

Your footsteps echo in the near-empty car garage. You almost fall over at the lurch of the elevator. He scans the cars before he jeastures for you that it's safe to come out.

He opens the door of his car for you, the back seat this time. You slide into the warm interior. The seat beneath you is still warm.

You freeze.

Jimin’s body goes ridged. Palm sliding across the leather. Feeling it for himself. You share a glance. Not a muscle in your body moves. You don’t shift a muscle.

“They’d never.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you. As far as things he could have anticipated for tonight car bombs are not one of them. But every wicked thing is fair game when it comes to people connected to Yoongi’s family.

Jimin hasn’t had to remind himself that you are one of them for a long long time. You look so scared as he looks down at you. He promises himself right then and there that they’ll pay for this. They’ll pay for making you this scared.

“Can you get out of the car the same way you got in?” Your leg is still balanced on the concrete. You slide your weight across the seat and then sit up as carefully as you can, and the second your ass clears the base Jimin is picking you up and running away from the car. Behind one of the concrete columns, his body blocking you, pinning you there cheek pressed to the cold concrete.

You wait ten seconds, and then twenty. Both of you breathing, watching, waiting.

Nothing happens.

“Jimin maybe we should just-“

Later- you’ll be able to separate what happens from the sensations that assault you. You’ll realize that it wasn’t Jimin’s car that blew up but a sedan a few rows back. You’ll remember that the force of the blast sent the car hurtling up a dozen feet, shattering nearly every window nearby and setting off dozens of car alarms. They must have taken great care to shut off the video cameras in the carepark before they planned the bomb.

For a second all you feel is weightlessness and heat.

The blast knocks you nearly off your feet, hitting you and Jimin from the side. You'd have been thrown if it wasn't for Jimin. You bang hard into the wall an inch away from your face thrown up against it..

You feel the heat and burn fromt he fire- but mostly just Jimin’s body pressed to you until the sound ends. There is ringing in your ears. Jimin pins you where you stand, his body covering all of you, a bit of shrapnel leaves a gash in the concrete above you. Narrowly missing you.

You taste blood, but you’re blinking, the heat from the fire drying out your eyes.

The tinkle of glass falling around you is the first thing you hear beyond the ringing in your ears. Jimin's distraught face inches from yours shaking your shoulders. Just ringing. There is a bit of glass in his hair that shakes loose and falls onto you.

“Are you hurt- are you-” his hands touch everywhere, your chest, your arms, letting out a single heavy breath when he finds no blood, no nothing.

There are alarms are going off, not just the cars but the fire alarms. The fire rages. The car still burns barely a dozen meters from you. you watch as the one next to it starts to burn too.

Far away, someone shouts, far away you can already hear sirens. You touch your chin, there is blood on your fingers.

Your phone fell from your pocket in the blast, and Jimin scoops it up as he heards you into the car, practically throwing you into the back, there is a text message lighting up the screen from a number you don’t recognize. Jimin shouts at you to keep your head down while you look at your phone. backing up the car, tapping the one behind it before he peels off.

Unknown (5:21): I’d never hurt you. I’d never leave you for dead like he did.

Jimin shouts something at you but you can't respond. Speeding out of the car park so quickly that he almost causes an accident as he cuts someone off. Sparks flying as he hits a low part in the concreete.

Unknown (5:21): I didn’t put a bomb in his car, just

Unknown (5:21): Take this as a warning baby <3

You look up, looking back at Jimin, pealing out of the he’s pulling you up. Shouting something you can’t hear over the roaring in your ears. Your hands shake, still holding the bulletproof jacket over your shoulders. Jimin has his gun in one hand and is steering with the other.

Your blood chills as you scroll down your notifications

Jungkook (5:20) (Missed call)

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

Birthday list &lt;;3

idk why the idea of the whole pack showering togethar makes me??? so flustered??? like- fuckkkk don't think of the visuals if you don't want to stare off into space

okay so the rat part might seem esoteric and upsetting BUT i really really need you to remember it, because in a chapter or two the m/c is going to refrence it.

i was also missing jin lots and lots in this chapter because i realize we haven't had a jin focoused chapter in a bit so 🥺

"there is no love without mutually assured distruction" jesus christ this might be my favorite line in this chapter.

i wrote almost all of this chapter tearing through dominic fikes discography in particular the song think fast. idk but theres something about it that is just so !!!! very bily!!!!

i must actually be loosing fat volume in my ass because this is the first day EVER that sitting for +10 plus hours editing bily has hurt my booty 🥺 yes it actually does take me that long to write this.

honestly writing moonbyul in felt like a jumpscare lol

💜💜💜

baby (you complete us) 12

C H A P T E R   T W E L V E 

Summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

Pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

Chapter Warnings: protective bangtan, anxious mc, mc has a panic attack, more of mc’s background, mentions of bullying, some issues with consent, mc has all the feelings, Hobi bonding with mc, some cuteness overload, 

*Words in Italics are spoken/written in Korean*

beta’d/edited by the lovely @babyarmybias​

masterlist // chapter 11 // chapter 13

taglist:  @imnotlauriane​  @mageprincess7​  @m1sss1mp​ @0funsite0​ @strawberry-moonpies​  @singukieee​  @btsw1fe @fluffy-canada-pancakes​ @carolinexkpop​  @agusfree​ @sakurarukas​  @iamkookiesforyou​  @skyys-universe​  @toughbook​ @plutoneu​​  @whisperssuga​​  @welcometomyworld13​​  @yuzon3​​ @wittyreader​​  @jnghs​​  @cyd0129​​  @exfolitae​​  @queen-in-the-shadows​​ @nen-nyy​​  @pandxthings​​  @schniti-is-in-the-house​​  @juju-227592​​  @jinseartharmysmoon​​  @wooya1224​​  @ddaeng-angmoh​​ @gratefullygrateful​​   @veronawrites​​  @xiusmarshmallow​​ @xicanacorpse​​  @kalala22​​  @ok-boke​​  @namjoonswaifu​​ @sweetcheeksdna​​ @promiseokza​​  @mushroom-main​​ @bookluver01​​  @butterfliesinthenightsky​​

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp  @yourleftsock  @skyys-universe @cryingpages @strxwbloody  @drissteele  @dustyinkpages @iamkookiesforyou @crushedblackroses  @fluffy-canada-pancakes @blaaiissee  @iiitsmaria @carolinexkpop  @azazel-nyx @strawberry-moonpies   @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i   @knjkitten @foreverweareyoung7  @lachimolala22019  @namuficxs @94z-93 @kimgmzmc  @thenaverse  @dahliasbouqet  @black-rose-29 @tinyoonsblog @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d  @stellauniverse @stupendouscookiehumanmug @tinyoonsblog  @veronawrites @tatyhend  @singukieee  @m0v3m3ntsblog @exfolitae @butterymin  @queen-in-the-shadows  @anaspectoflife @welcometomyworld13 @slinekyu @ghostlyworld​ @svnbangtansworld​ @loisje123​ @i-have-no-life-charlie​ @danielle143​  @softieyn​ @kyuupidwrites​ @friedlollipop​ @lulu-83​ @tokiodori

———————————————

Previously on baby (you complete us):

“Thank you for doing this, Noona! We will tag you when it gets posted!” Yeonjun exclaims once you were done filming in front of one of the portraits outside of the café.

“Thank you! It was fun. I could really go for a drink now though!” You laugh as the boys agree with your statement, Taehyun and Soobin pulling your arms and dragging you into the café.

Keep reading

💜💜💜

baby (you complete us) 11

C H A P T E R   E L E V E N

Summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

Pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

Chapter Warnings: protective bangtan, anxious mc, mc makes some friends, talk of injury, 

*Words in Italics are spoken/written in Korean*

beta’d/edited by the lovely @babyarmybias

masterlist // chapter 10 // chapter 12

taglist:  @imnotlauriane  @mageprincess7  @m1sss1mp @0funsite0  @strawberry-moonpies  @singukieee  @btsw1fe @fluffy-canada-pancakes  @carolinexkpop  @agusfree @sakurarukas  @iamkookiesforyou  @skyys-universe  @toughbook @plutoneu​ @whisperssuga​  @welcometomyworld13​  @yuzon3​ @wittyreader​  @jnghs​  @cyd0129​ @exfolitae​  @queen-in-the-shadows​ @nen-nyy​  @pandxthings​  @schniti-is-in-the-house​  @juju-227592​  @jinseartharmysmoon​  @wooya1224​  @ddaeng-angmoh​ @gratefullygrateful​   @veronawrites​  @xiusmarshmallow​ @xicanacorpse​  @kalala22​ @ok-boke​  @namjoonswaifu​ @sweetcheeksdna​ @promiseokza​  @mushroom-main​ @bookluver01​  @butterfliesinthenightsky​

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp  @yourleftsock  @skyys-universe @cryingpages  @strxwbloody  @drissteele  @dustyinkpages @iamkookiesforyou  @crushedblackroses  @fluffy-canada-pancakes @blaaiissee  @iiitsmaria  @carolinexkpop  @azazel-nyx @strawberry-moonpies   @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i   @knjkitten @foreverweareyoung7  @lachimolala22019  @namuficxs @94z-93 @kimgmzmc  @thenaverse  @dahliasbouqet @black-rose-29 @tinyoonsblog  @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d  @stellauniverse @stupendouscookiehumanmug @tinyoonsblog  @veronawrites @tatyhend  @singukieee  @m0v3m3ntsblog @exfolitae @butterymin  @queen-in-the-shadows  @anaspectoflife @welcometomyworld13 @slinekyu @ghostlyworld @svnbangtansworld @loisje123 @i-have-no-life-charlie @danielle143 @jcrml @softieyn​ @kyuupidwrites​ @friedlollipop​ @lulu-83​ @tokiodori​

———————————————

Previously on baby (you complete us):

When you finally pulled away, Jungkook leaned forward, trying to follow your lips. You were sat on his lap, his hands resting on your waist. You didn’t say anything, just stared at one another, trying to breathe and grasp what just happened.  After a couple of seconds, you break out into a large grin, moving forward and hiding your head in his chest.

Jungkook laughs at your reaction, wrapping his arms around your back and holding you close. He wears the biggest grin on his lips as he hears your laughter spilling from you. Your soul was warm, body filling with unrestrained happiness. It felt as though one hole in your heart had been filled, filled by the man you were laying with, laughing as if someone told a good joke.  

This laughter was different though.

It was pure happiness.

Keep reading

💜💜💜

just 2seok making yoongi smile so big 🥹 cr for and to @namchyoon

💜💜💜

Before I Leave You (Pt. 59)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi need to break each other one more time before you're ready to heal together. Hobi needs to leave.

Tags: Angst, implied self-harm, m/c tries but doesn't actually hurt herself, burns, gaslighting, triggers, PTSD, dissociation, depersonalization, hurt/comfort, fluff, lots of tears, confessions, severe depression, self-esteem issues, allusions to past sexual abuse, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, I promise it's not quite as angsty as it sounds,

W/c: 20.3k

A/N: this is the darkest chapter i've written of bily, but it's also probably the most hopeful one too <3 a lot of the more hopeful lines were inspired by those little fancy tik tok slideshows so i can't take complete credit. Don't hurt yourself with this though. Check the end of the chapter for some more notes!

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

It takes three days for you and Jungkook to talk it out, and when you do- it’s mostly because of Hobi.

Hoseok's just coming home from work, his jacket bundled to his cheeks to keep out the cold. He’s surprised when it’s not just Noodle waiting for him on the front porch but you too lounging stubbornly on the outdoor furniture (if anyone could lounge stubbornly, you would manage too).

It's so fucking cold outside. It's hard to believe just a few weeks ago any of you left the house without thought.

Your hair's ruffled like you’ve been sleeping through the steady fall breeze, tempting Hobi’s fingers, covered with the biggest and thickest duvet that the pack has to offer. The living room curtains move; Yoongi's been watching you. He probably tried to convince you to nap inside, out of the cold.

Hobi can't help but agree; You’re unwilling to relinquish one of your favorite napping spots despite the crispy leaves gathering on the deck like dust bunnies. The blanket can't possibly be keeping you warm enough. Hobi makes his footsteps soft when he walks close. A vaguely disproved rumble builds in his throat and he pulls the blanket up higher, tucking it around your cheeks.

“Yoongi got me a heating pad.”

Hobi jumps, hand over his heart. You crack one eye, a smile building, “Jesus fucking Christ- I thought you were asleep-” he flops down onto the chair next to you, trying to settle his heartbeat. He still smells faintly sour, the sweetness in his caramel scent going burnt.

“If me being cold is why you’re upset, get in line.” Hobi flushes and the living room window curtain moves again. He's a little chagrined at being found out. But you don’t tease him anymore, wordlessly peeling back the covers and letting him in.

The inside of your little nesting bundle is suprisingly toasty. Your body hot to the touch when you lean against Hobi’s shoulder. Playing with his hand under the cover while he talks about everything and nothing in particular. Hobi’s job mostly. What he did today. The people they had in at the shop. everything.

You’d told Hobi a few nights ago (hushed like your care instructions are a proprietary secret) that sometimes you just like being talked at without any sort of need to respond beyond a hum or nod. Like when Tae talks about all the books she's reading. It’s soothing, just listening to him.

You sit like until the doorknob Jingles, in that faintly metallic broken way it’s always had.

Jungkook comes to the door, his pretty dark eyes hope wide. Announcing his presence with a little noise that sounds a little…off, like Jungkook’s already preparing himself for something unpleasant.

That unpleasant thing being you probably.

It's been 3 days since your ill-advised rendezvous in the old bedroom turned sex dungeon and you still haven't said more than a word to each other in passing. You look away, avoiding his eye contact.

“Hey,” he licks his lips, voice falling, pussying out at the last second when he sees you're not alone. He'd taken your request not to tell anyone to heart but that only makes this more difficult. Jungkook has always been shy when it comes to difficult but necessary things. He's a little too used to the others facilitating these kinds of conversations.

“Either of you want to go for a run er-“ He scratches at the nape of his neck looking at you pointedly, “Walk?” You sigh and after half a breath Hobi responds for you. Hand tangling with yours under the covers, the comforting touch hidden.

“I think we’re okay, I’m a bit tired,” Hobi says.

It's not exactly a lie; Both of you had stayed up pretty late last night after your nightmare woke you. Watching funny TikTok's that had you breathing short heavy breaths of air against his neck. As close to a laugh as you can ever get when you're sad. But he knows you won’t say it, that you won't respond to Jungkook. On a good day, you have trouble articulating your wants.

It’s been a few days since you’ve had a good day. A few weeks, if Hobi’s being honest.

Everyone had also sort of noticed, that you and Jungkook have been orbiting each other like planets the same way Jimin and Tae keep their distance these days. Although their distance is more an emotional one and less of a physical one like yours and Jungkook's. Tae and Jimin are a lot better at pretending that nothing's wrong.

Jungkook's hopeful smile falls. But he nods, blinking rapidly before he thuds down the stairs to start stretching his body. His tight black shirt hugging places that are distracting even on the easiest of days and today is no different.

Only now, it feels like you're not allowed to look.

“Okay, something happened- you usually aren’t so quiet around Koo- spill” Hobi nudges your shoulder with his. “Jungkook definitely is not all sad bunny without reason.”

“You are such a gossip.”

“Gossiping is supposed to be good for your neural pathways.”

“You sound like Namjoon.” You don’t want to say it, don’t want to talk about it.

You’re not sure what you expect but Hobi tickling the information out of you isn’t it. But his fingers creep up your sides, voice uncharacteristically whiney as they dig into your soft spots, makeing you squirm.

“Come on just tell me,”

The giggle startles out of your chest and you scuffle trying unsuccessfully to twist out of the way of his hands. you hold his hands away from you so that he won’t dig them into your sides. Laughing, both of you half-splayed on the outdoor furniture. The blanket starting to pull onto the floor. It’s so cold today- but where Hobi’s hands dig into your sides you’re warm.

The two of you miss Jungkook's singular longing look.

“Alright- alright fine. Just- stop.” Hobi listens immediately. Sitting back and pulling you back to sitting by your wrists. He’s feeling a little too accomplished, the hum of alpha made omega submit like a flame flickering through his blood.

He always feels a little too accomplished when he makes you smile, when he makes you laugh, and when he makes you better. He feels a little too accomplished when he can make you happy and no one else can not even your mate.

(but that particular thought will only be useful a few days from now- You stupid idiot alpha.)

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment as you start. keeping your voice down so that jungkook won't overhear. “Jungkook- the other day, we were uhm, having sex” Hobi reaches up and zips up your sweatshirt, it's another one of his that you’ve taken to wearing religiously. The one with sewn-in patches on the front.

“Oh, you’re blushing.”

You bury your nose in the blanket. “Shut up- am not.”

“Just spit it out,” He teases. At least you have the energy to tease me back today.

You sigh, resting your cheek sort of across his knee, although the blanket cushions you too. it takes you a second before you start. “I gave- or well- tried to give him a blowjob. But I started crying in the middle of it.”

Hobi winces, trying to school his face into a mask of impassivity. He might be getting a little too used to you crying with how the last few nights have gone. But he understands why the shift might have been startling for Jungkook.

It’s hard to keep speaking but Hobi's hand in yours makes it easier. “He keeps trying to apologize, but there’s nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who pushed myself when I knew I shouldn't have. it's my fault, not his."

“You don’t really believe that do you?” Hobi feels vaguely sick, and he can tell from your looking away that maybe you do.

“I don’t know if it works that way. Apologizes can’t cancel each other out. He doesn't need to say he's sorry, I just need to get over myself.”

Hobi slips out from the blanket, braving the cold after being curled up with your warmth feels particularly chilling. He calls Jungkook’s name just as he starts to run. Luckily, he's barely 5 paces down the sidewalk.

“Koo! Wait up! We’re gonna put on warmer clothes.”

“What are you doing?” You hiss, whisper hushed. Hobi’s already pulling the thick blue blanket off of you extinguishing your protective barrier of warmth. He helps you up with a handout because Jung Hoseok is a gentleman under all of his delicately artful streetwear. His jeans today have painted sunflowers on them. They complement the yellow beach trees behind him and his auburn sweater stunningly. His smile feels just as bright.

If you were a plant, I’d put you where it’s sunniest.

He doesn't know when he started looking for excuses to hold your hands, but he does so right now, tugging you inside.

“I don’t think you should leave this; I think you need to talk it out. Don’t be like Tae and Jimin.” You whine at that but only because it’s true. Tae and Jimin have been dancing around each other for weeks and are showing no signs of getting better.

Jungkook is only too happy to turn his run into a walk. The three of you must look like quite the trio. You in your too-large pink sweatpants and Hobi’s sweatshirt (an extra sweater added underneath that Yoongi had been only too happy to provide). Jungkook in one of his form-fitting all-black jogging outfits that hugs all of his muscles. He favors the expensive athleisure because it’s sort of his job to look effortlessly sporty. And Hobi in his paint splattered- ripped at the hem- baggy jeans and orange beanie. Ears sticking out at the side.

The cold wind whips at the three of you as you walk.

Your muscles burn, thighs aching as you climb the hills. Another reminder of something you need to work on. But they slow their pace to accommodate you. “Joonie and I used to drive late through this neighborhood just to look at all of the old houses."

It’s a bright fall day, and the houses do look awfully pretty with all of their colorful frames and shutters and scrolling woodwork. It’s a reminder of what your house probably looked like half a century ago, what it probably will look like if Yoongi has any say in the matter and completes his dream of fully restoring it.

The cold air burns your lungs. You’re not talking about it until you are until it’s all you can talk about. Hobi’s not sure how he ended up in the middle between the two of you as you and Jungkook sort of shout at each other. It’s not shouting exactly, just the tenseness of raised voices that echo across the concrete and asphalt, startling a mean-looking calico cat that sits on the edge of a rock wall.

“It’s not your fault Kookie-“

“If it's not mine then it’s certainly not yours.” Bratting out won’t help this, you aren’t someone who Koo can or should brat to. His tone is the kind he uses with Namjoon and Jin when he’s feeling like he needs a strong hand- and Hobi is too aware of how lacking in strength you are right now.

Hobi flicks Jungkook on the shoulder. “Be nice, you’re both just stressed about this.” Hobi’s a good mediator. It’s good that he stays between the two of you when you talk like this.

Jungkook kicks at a rock and it scatters with a sharp sound, “Why didn’t you just tell me? If you didn’t like it? I just- I’ve been struggling to get it.”

“Because-“ you break off, wondering if it’s painfully honest or just plain painful to admit this. The truth won’t change even if what you say does. Maybe you owe it to Jungkook, to be honest with this. “Because- What you want matters more to me than what I want.”

A frustrated groan slips his lips, “Okay but why? Why is that? Maybe it just makes me selfish but l can’t imagine. Help me understand-”

You pucker your lips and Hobi knows it’s because deep down you think an awful lot of bad things about yourself. Hobi is only too familiar with those kinds of thoughts, how they built and built, and eventually condemn you to behaviors far worse. If you don’t believe that you deserve things like food and kindness- then it’s easier to believe you don’t deserve things like a choice in what happens- you don’t deserve agency. Hobi understands without having to ask.

But Jungkook doesn’t.

“Jungkook, I’m trying not to call you privileged but there are certain things with you that are given that aren’t with me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, annoyed that your argument has become this, “yeah? Like what-”

“You’ve always been pretty and looked after in your relationships Kookie-”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah but you’re pretty too-”

Your hands are tightened into little fists, “You don’t get it, those things are not a given with me. They weren't until you guys. It’s hard for me to believe in our relationship the same way you do, It's why I make like fucked up choices sometimes. I can't forget it- I had to fight for every inch and even now- even though I have everything I need I can’t stop fighting or else it will go away forever. That's what it feels like, even though i know it's not- it feels like i still have to make sure-" you make a frustrates sound,

"People like me do not get things without giving something up Jungkook, that's what i've been taught until now." Jungkook starts to argue, to say that they won't go away and yet you snap at him. "You never had to fight in the first place. So doing things I don't want to gain that security- it's a sacrifice I've always been willing to make."

Thinking thoughts like that is a lot more damaging than Jungkook realizes, but Hobi knows. You’ve had this exact conversation before. Maybe Hobi should step in and put more than just his physical body between the two of you. Maybe he should do something to stop this from charting into unsafe territory.

"That's like- so fucking shitty."

"It's not shitty, it's just a fack Jungkook."

"No- I meant that's shitty of you to say about yourself and about us."

Hobi knows that what you’re trying to describe is not the same thing as hating yourself or fearing you aren’t worth love. Because secretly worrying is different than knowing it as a truth.

Truth and Secret. Two sides of the same coin.

But maybe as the people who love you and are trying to help you, maybe trying to be worth something for yourself and not them, is what they’re owed.

You won’t get anywhere, you won’t get better, if you keep thinking and believing this. it might be up to them to get you started, but once you’re standing on your own two feet you’ll have miles to go. Hobi knows. Because he’s a few years further along with this- this mental rehabilitation of your sense of self than you are.

You need to at least do something about your dysmally low self-esteem. And that something isn't letting them walk all over it. Hobi’s not sure he should be the one to tell you that. Maybe Jin should, or Yoongi.

Hobi's not sure you're ready to hear that yet.

Yeah- Yoongi should be the one. Wanting someone you love to start loving themselves is never an easy predicament.

"You- you're their baby Kookie." Is all you say, like that justifies it. “You’re their baby and they give you everything you want. So don’t blame me for following in their footsteps.”

“Yeah- but I'm also my own person!” Jungkook stops walking wrapping his arms around his elbows. But Hobi knows he’s not cold. Now that you’re moving he hardly feels the breeze. You, on the other hand, are still shivery.

“You don't get it! If you told me tomorrow that you never wanted to touch me again it would be okay- I’d get it and we'd all get over it."

Jungkook is not looking at your face when he says it. “You say you’re not given the same things as me, but you’re not even letting me give you that. I’m equally as capable of making choices for the betterment of the pack as you are, I’m equally as capable of deciding what I think needs to happen. That is not just a one-sided conversation. I don’t want you to-"

He breaks off, frustrated at the ability of his words to accurately help, to heal. This has never been what Jungkook's good at. The stone that Jungkook’s been kicking, small and round and grey, sits between your worn shoes.

“That’s not the point of all of this is what I’m trying to say. Love is a process, not a single event and it's not just one sided. We need to be able to give and take, and take and give. None of us just want to take from you until you've got no more left.”

You have picked up one bad habit from Namjoon it seems (Namjoon's the worst offender, but Jin and Yoongi and basically everyone else in the pack treat Jungkook like this from time to time, it's hard not too- when he's as sick as he is.)

You forget sometimes, that Jungkook is not fragile. Regardless of his health issues and the strain it puts on him. He is both older than you and just as capable of handling things on his own. Probably a little bit more capable honestly, given your general mental difficulties.

('Mental difficulties' is a kind way of saying that you're fucking useless on one of your sad days, but tomato tamato.)

There is a rotting pumpkin on the sidewalk, it looks like one of the neighborhood kids must have kicked it in. You kind of feel like that.

“I’m sorry for making you do that, for making something happen on terms that you didn’t agree to.”

“I’m sorry for not checking in with you part way through, for not double checking.”

Hobi steps back so that you can hug Jungkook, and Jungkook feels very very warm underneath the thin cloth. Muscles working off their energy, he nuzzles into the side of your face, Jungkook smells best in fall time- honey-dripping from autumn leaves. All golden too.

The heavy goldenrod sways. And you feel a little lighter. Just a little. You don’t know if it’s enough. From behind Jungkook’s back, Hobi smiles at you. Wide and genuine- the kind that lights up his whole face and makes your chest feel all fluttery. And when you pull back it’s you that ends up in the middle of your trio. You feel boxed in in a good way, both of their shoulders towering above you, barely at eye level with Jungkook’s.

When a car comes close and the sidewalk gets narrow, Hobi presses both of you closer to the grass. Jungkook grabs the back of your sweatshirt when you stumble over a crack in the concrete.

“I know it kind of defeats the purpose of exercise and it's cold but, wanna get some ice cream?”

"Fuck yes.”

“Can we cuddle when we get back? Post-walk cuddles are the best.”

“Of course we can Koo.”

You walk a little farther into town, you're already very close. A few streets down is Hobi’s flower shop and he’s very familiar with this area. The dusty old sweetshop has been in this town probably longer than any of you have been alive. with pink rubber linoleum and eggshell blue walls. The shop smells like waffle cones, freshly pressed and bubbling. Smells like the tail end of summer- you're honestly a little bit surprised that they're open this far after the official close of the season.

Both of them pause at the door. Noses lifting, breathing in deep. A delighted pur slips past Jungkook's lips, and a happy alpha grumble stirs in Hoseok's chest.

Hobi doesn’t know how he never placed it, but it’s your scent. Your scent is not just warm baking bread although that’s what you smell like usually when your happiness has mellowed out to a neutral humm. But this- the warm waffle sweetness on the air- that’s what you smell like when you’re happy. When you laugh. When you smile.

Hobi's teeth ache.

For a second, he and Jungkook just stand in it. Basking. Your cheeks are two pink splotches, like pieces of cherry saltwater taffy. “Don’t you dare say anything.” You hiss, shy and a bit embarrassed. The air around you gets imperceptibly sweeter and Jungkook steps up to the counter to order once you tell him what you want. Hobi grabs your hand, squeezing it lightly.

You raise your eyebrow at him, feeling lighter than you have in days. You know it won't last, but still.

“Do you still have that train ticket?”

“Of course I do.”

~-~

You’re right. It doesn’t last.

Eventually, your sadness reaches its boiling point. It always bubbles over one way or another.

It’s bad that it’s just another fucking ordinary day, isn’t it? How messy. How inelegant of you, that sadness should consume you on a random fucking morning.

It’s Tuesday and the world is ending, but the world has always been ending for you, hasn’t it? Your life has been a slow apocalypse. Things have always been harder than they should be for you and that’s the real tragedy in this. If you could only learn to keep your head down it might be easier.

Do not worry. The worrying is going to kill you. (This isn’t just a lesson for you, but a lesson for me too.)

You need to break. You and Hobi need to break again before you heal right. Like a broken bone or a pair of broken hearts that need setting. You’re never going to get there without a little bit of violence.

It’s so strange how quickly everything turns, one day you’re okay and then the next you’re not. You wish that there was a rhyme or reason, that everything could just be fixed with love.

On this particular Tuesday, that violence comes for you.

It’s been 19 mornings since you and Hobi held each other’s hands and found a dead body and on this day you feel like you’re wading through sludge. Head all fuzzy, like a corpse that wasn’t ever found and instead buried in muck and crawling things. Buzzing around your head are errant thoughts.

Things like hide hide hide, can’t let them know, can’t show sad or else, or else or else or else. The unseen consequences hover there, like a ghost in the corner, hungry and bitter. Waiting for you to show your belly. Waiting until they can hurt the most.

You never thought you’d feel afraid of breathing too loud again. But as you feel the pack get up around you, you struggle to keep your breathing measured and even. Playing dead.

Yoongi’s there, you can tell because he pulls you onto his chest when Tae has to scoot around you, his long hair brushing the top of your head when he buries his nose in your hair. and murmurs that he'll be down in a minute. Everyone else has already woken up and started the process of getting ready for work. The nest is faintly warm in spots. But you wouldn’t know- having curled your knees to your chest to take up as little space as possible.

He strokes your back, waiting so that you're not alone when you wake. You fake it for as long as you can. Reluctantly turning to press your face into his chest and hide when you know for certain it's only him there and that everyone else has already gone downstairs for breakfast.

He kisses your forhead and then your eyelids and then your mating mark. Feeling the even beat of your blood against his skin like a promise, like salvation.

“It’s gonna pass. You know it will.” Yoongi says, soft because he can tell you’re shaking with the effort of hiding it. Your eyes are glassy when he pulls back to get his eyes on you. Each of his touches is reassuring and gentle, feather-light as he pets down your arms to your wrists, pulling your arms around him. permission to cling, permission to hug him like you need too.

But it feels like there's a bubble between Yoongi's hands and your body. Each of his touches just another layer of skin or clothes away. Too far to touch.

“My little love, my sweetheart,” he says, voice rough. Searching your eyes for a hint of the usual you. Persing his lips when he finds little of it.

You’ve got pretty eyes, Yoongi doesn’t say that often enough. Although he’s heard Tae compliment them. They're even beautiful when they're like this- all spaced out. Frightfully blank and absent of their usual twinkle. Like you’re not able to concentrate on anything. Dissociating.

Yoongi’s body feels too small to properly guard you. Like an eggshell cradling careful golden yolk and bland milky white. Keeping you tucked around his ribcage won't keep you safe. As alive and necessary as his heart is, soft and warm here and just as prone to bleeding.

You struggle. Barely breathing around it. And Yoongi’s heart lurches. His gripping going frantic. He's just about to tell you not to struggle today (you don't need to speak if it's going to hurt) when you finally choke out.

“I’m fine.”

It's whisper soft and Yoongi hums in agreement even if he knows you’re anything but. If you need the certainty of saying that, then he’s going to let you have it.

Maybe that’s his first mistake, letting you act like nothing is wrong when it so clearly is.

"I can do it," you tell him when he moves to help you get dressed for the day. He's worried you won't do it if he doesn't make you but you want to tell him you're not a fucking child. Even that seems like it would take too much speaking. Too much effort.

He goes down the stairs first. Leaving you to pull on a thin sweater and then Hobi’s sweatshirt over it. You cried into the hem of his other one last night, the one with the patches on it that's your favorite. Now it sits on the floor like a discarded corpse. You debate putting it on but it smells too much like you. Too much like Nightmare and not enough like sunshine.

If Jin were here and not downstairs already and if you were capable of speaking maybe he'd recite some careful statistic. Is this another poorly studied omegan behavior? Wrapping scented items around you like a nest that you can take with you wherever you go. Something that omegas do when they feel truly threatened.

But nests are supposed to keep the bad things out, and the only bad thing in this house is currently wrapped in Hobi's sweatshirt. Standing in the dressing room like a ghost. The pink walls look greyer by the second like you're leaching the color from them. Trying not to burst into tears for no reason at all.

People don't cry over their favorite sweatshirt being dirty.

You're cold, your fingers went numb the second that you detangled yourself from Yoongi and the nest. the second that hobi left from it really. When Hobi leaves he takes your warmth with him.

You wonder when that happened, when his clothes started to smell like you, and yours started to smell like him. You don’t want to think of the implications of that today, your heart is too heavy with fear to carry any love.

Jungkook’s In the entryway when Yoongi goes down. Tying his shoes and getting ready to leave for his early class. He says good morning while he stuffs his work out bag with not one but 3 protein shakes,

Namjoon left very early for a surgery but the entryway still smells faintly of the pack alpha. His coffee scent twined with the smell of a freshly brewed pot. The faint gurgle of it finishing echoes off the tall ceilings.

Yoongi woke up with him, had watched as he spent an extra few minutes pressed along your spine speaking softly over your sleeping form. Words hushed and secret like confession or maybe a wish. If you could absorb Namjoon’s encouragement via osmosis, it would have worked by now. His voice gentle enough to keep off the nightmares, a dream catcher of sorts.

"You're doing so well pup, I'm so proud of you, each day that you get up and you try- you're so strong. I know it's hard- I know you're so tired, but try one more time for me today, okay? I love you so much. I can't wait to see you when I get home."

Yoongi watches him get ready from the steps, watching Jungkook tie his shoes. Feeling lucky to do so. Jungkook looks up, sees him, and smiles. It’s short-lived.

“How’s today, from 1-10?” He's asked the same thing every morning this week, although you'd never guessed it and Yoongi would never tell on him.

“Probably a 4,” he sighs, lying a little because you're honestly at a 3 at best. But if Jungkook thinks that you've gotten worse since yesterday then he'll just spend the whole day worrying over it. Stressing when his texts go unanswered. Yoongi hasn't seen you even touch your cell phone since yesterday morning.

Jungkook sighs, resting his head on the banister so Yoongi can run his fingers through his hair. No matter how much he wants to stay home and help Yoongi look after you he can’t. It never feels good leaving when a packmate is in distress. The rest of the pack are in the same predicament and Yoongi knows it. Their day jobs are an ever-present pain in their asses. Especially with a packmate so obviously in need of their care.

“She’ll probably want to sleep until you get home. Go, I’ve got this.” Yoongi is too used to this, too used to corralling you like a fragile ghost.

Jungkook knows Yoongi has this in hand but still, since the other day, he’s felt at least partially responsible. But Yoongi doesn’t know about the blowjob. He might never know. If you don’t want to tell him then Jungkook won’t. You've gone mostly back to normal since the other say, and Jungkook won't make this worse.

Yoongi checks on you when you don't immediately come downstairs, unsurprised that you've decided to go back to sleep. You sleep and sleep and sleep. Through breakfast and then lunch. Until Yoongi can no longer concentrate on the space downstairs, and the gnawing of the mating mark disturbs his quiet. He's only halfway through framing out the exterior walls. He takes a plate up to you and sits by you as you struggle through it. Finally convincing you to at least come downstairs and sit where he can watch you.

Hobi would take you out for ice cream if he was home, knowing you’d lick up a Sunday in a heartbeat. That’s what he’d do. But Yoongi just pokes at your plate and tells you to take one more bite.

It’s a little pathetic (a lot pathetic really) how bad you are at taking care of yourself when you get sad. But hours slip by like minutes. Trickling through your fingers.

You don’t really know what you do in the afternoon. The moments pass foggy; there are pieces of sea glass on the table outside. The porch is drafty and cold. When did the birdfeeder run out of seed? there is a small bird looking at you, pudgy grey and brown, its beak makes no noise. It turns its head wondering if you're food or foe or statue.

The floor is all messy with fallen leaves and the window boxes don't have flowers in them anymore.

You watch the autumn light bounce through the red maple and it's leaves until your pack comes home. One kiss a piece on the top of your head.

Tae’s finger rubs your forehead the next time you're really aware. Her nail scratches against your scalp. “Sorry, I got a little bit of lipstick on you." She pulls you from the outside furniture and ushers your cold body inside. Noodle follows, was he sitting in your lap? His tail raised behind him like a warning flag.

When the pack comes home, they bring with them bags of food, because Jin and Jimin had gone to get groceries after work hadn’t they? That stings a little.

Over the last few months, you've developed something of a routine with Jin and Yoongi. It's become a habit to make an outing out of the small things because you like the small things. The little domestic indulgence of going to the store with the people you love. Getting asked to go get things that they've forgotten. Like a little scavenger hunt. You can’t remember if they offered to come home and pick you up. Maybe Yoongi told them you weren’t up for it today.

You’re hurt until you check your phone.

Jinnie: (5:01 pm): Hey, Minnie and I are gonna go to Costco after work, wanna come? we can swing by the house on our way through.

Jinnie: (5:06 pm): You know how much he loves the parfaits.

Jinnie: (5:23): Pup?

Jinnie: (5:30) (Missed call)

Minnie &lt;3 (5:32) (Missed call)

Jinnie: (5:35): Just let me know okay? I’ll bring you one home if you want!

Minnie &lt;3: (6:45) (Missed call)

Jinnie (6:47): Minnie got you one anyway <3

You stare down at the missed calls, wondering what else you've forgotten and what else you've missed. It feels like you’re suffocating slowly but the others aren’t. The hard edge of your phone digs into the side of your hand as you hold it tight.

The others seem perfectly content with the amount of oxygen in the room so you’re sure it must all be in your head. They rush around you, at 3x speed and you slowed down to a reverb. Jungkook laughs and hugs you to his chest, moving you out of their way with a hug because they've got a lot to unload and you're in the way.

You are taking up necessary space. Too underfoot, Too close. Too needy.

You pretend that there is nothing to be worried about.

Yoongi's been getting dinner ready, probably since he made you come downstairs, you help him while he directs the others because the idea of curling up in the other room and doing nothing seems just as terrible as performing domestic labor. Yoongi abandons the pots on the stove after asking you to look after them.

That’s what this is, isn’t it? A performance. Smile and no one will think anything’s wrong. Lean into Jin’s touch and say you’re sorry for not responding because that’s what he expects. Take a bite of Jimin's parfait when he hands it to you even though you can't really taste it, the sweet friction of raspberry against your tongue, the tang of spoiled dairy. Leave it on the counter when he walks away, but only when he turns his back.

It’s a delicate balance, and you meditate your scent to be as unoffensive as possible. Dissociating so lightly and gently that you know you hardly smell anything. You don’t want tonight to be a bad night. You won’t let it.

Even Namjoon ducks down, sniffing curiously at your neck, once quick, and then deeper, “You’re not wearing blockers, are you?”

You can’t let him know, can’t let anyone know. “Of course not,” Namjoon surveys you and you can tell your ruse isn’t believed. You hasten to make another excuse. “I feel like I have a bit of a cold coming on, it’s probably just allergies.” Speaking when you need to lie, when you feel like you're dying, is frightfully easy.

You are almost keen and lean into his touch when he puts a hand on your forehead. Stupid omegan impulses. You already need so much care, just this touch is enough to make you whine for more. Namjoon’s touches are in high demand and in short supply. You won't take them from the others.

“You don’t feel warm.” He sucks on his cheek, eyes flickering to the door where Jimin waits, arms ladened with bags, asking for help.

You feel like time is slipping away. Slipping faster than you are.

You might as well be frozen at the bottom of a like because it feels like nothing can reach you here. Not Jin’s kind looks or the pregnant glance they share over your head. The parfait sits on the counter gathering condensation. “You should have it before dinner,” Jimin says, ignoring Jin’s usual rule of dinner first desert second. Even Jin doesn’t comment. You just hum in response. Stirring the pot carefully.

Jungkook has to ask you three times if you think that the fruit's fine on the counter or if it should go in the pantry. When he asks you what’s wrong you say that you’re just distracted- even though that’s really not it. The pell mell tumbling of your mind is the one thing you can’t escape. Everything is just below the surface, still water on top and a riptide below. You have never been more focused on making yourself small.

Not enough, it’s never enough, why haven’t you been putting more effort into this, why haven’t you been doing more? It’s so easy for them and yet so hard for you. Why are you being a baby, why can’t you get over this? Why are you taking up so much space?

You’d really been hoping that maybe just maybe- you’d be able to keep it like this. You can't shake the fear they’re gonna start pulling away from you soon. How many more times will you miss Jin's calls before he stops calling? You know they're tired of this. Tired of you. With every little sweet word they say. Every time Namjoon bends down to peck your cheek before he goes outside to unload, pausing in between each trip.

Everything is perfect and idyllic and fine with the pack But it doesn't feel that way.

You don’t need to be needy when you already take so much. They can hardly get one night of uninterrupted sleep because of you. Maybe you should start sleeping downstairs.

Don’t look at me like that, don’t look at me like you can tell that something's wrong. Don't look, don't look, don't look.

You make yourself help. Muscles straining, a little dizzy, and that’s because you didn’t eat earlier, right? You sway, and Jimin watches you. comes near. Knuckles rubbing against your spine, you don't look at his face, keeping your gaze trained on the food. "You wanna go cuddle on the couch pup? You don't need to do this, I can-"

"Jiminie? Where did you put the bag of sushi rice? I can't find it and I wanna put all the grains in the same place." You are not the only one with food related anxiety. Jungkook's tense face appears in the doorway and jimin's necessary concern is thankfully diverted.

You put on a brave face, "You can go, I've got this" Jimin looks like he doesn't believe you. But Jungkook is obviously stressed about this impromptu re-organization.

But there are bags and bags of food; more than you and Yoongi ever needed when it was just the two of you. It's probably two grocery carts full at minimum. With the amount they eat it will barely last a week.

There will be another chance, you know there will be. Jin smiles at you when he comes inside, lips tugging at his cheeks in that familiar beautiful way. His button-down shirt rolled up at the elbows. To his credit, it only looks a little strained. It goes genuine when you burrow into his chest, nuzzling in that small pupish way that you know he likes.

“I’m sorry,” is all you manage, it doesn’t feel like enough. You shake, but Jin only leans against the counter and pulls you properly to his chest while the others rush by, Jimin’s car is packed to the brim.

“It’s okay pup” Jin noses along your shoulder and you tilt your chin letting him drink deep. He offers no other sweet supplications. No other encouragements, and oh- that stings. Because any other day he’d have some little joke or jab that would make you smile. Any other day he’d stay with you and let the others do the unloading, but today, he just kisses your forehead as he lets you go.

How selfish of you, to expect more when it’s clear that Jin is giving you as much as he can right now. How selfish of you to expect anything with you are so incapable of giving anything of substance in return.

The spread of pots on the range is what you’d expect from a meal meant to feed eight people. There’s a pot full of soup to warm you up from the inside out and a shallow pan with oil. Rice cooking fills the air with warm clean steam. The breaded chicken bubbles and pops, covered by a screen that Yoongi had told you not to get too close to because of possible oil splashes.

It could hurt he said. Be careful.

There’s even a salad on the side, the cucumber chopped into pretty little chunks. Feta cheese and a few different kinds of dressing at the ready. The knife on the cutting board is sharp and capable, but that’s not what you’d go for.

Yoongi tries to organize your packmates into putting the right things away in the right place rather than just leaving them in a vague state of disarray. He and Jin are a little particular about how they keep the kitchen. Their distracted, not focusing on you even when they come close.

Only one packmate lingers in your vicinity. The snack cabinet in particular is a little too full of half-open chip bags and Hoseok is given the task to throw out the old ones (who’s really going to eat the crumbs anyway?). They’ll replace them with the new bags of gluten-free rice crackers and other things that Jungkook can eat. He’s less likely to go for the sugary and salty snacks that the pack keeps in the pantry if he has his seizure-safe ones close at hand.

Maybe it's tricking him into eating healthy, but the pack is good at that- gently guiding you all into healthier behaviors. Doing the same thing to you too. Keeping sweets and fresh fruit out because that’s what you’re most likely to reach for. Eating a little unhealthy is better than not eating at all.

The pot is on the stove, burning. You know what burns to feel like- the clarity of pain that cuts through the confusion. This haze that you just can't seem to get rid of any other way.

Hobi comes back into the kitchen before you can do anything and you look away from the pot rapidly. He's trying to say something to you that you only hum at, “I don’t know how the fuck Jk opened up 12 different bags of Tostitos-” It’s a pitiful attempt at small talk, to get you to talk at all. What’s wrong- what aren’t you saying? Let me in.

But you just hum, stirring the pots. Hobi keeps you in his peripheries. His eye is on you. Concentrating on you as you slowly stir the pasta.

Once upon a time, you were used to the semi-constant pain in your stomach and the dizziness of hurting yourself in that way. You aren’t above pretending that not eating is anything but that. A way to hurt yourself slowly over time. If you’re going to hurt yourself you might as well be effective with it and get something out of.

Your body isn’t even worthwhile now. The last time you looked in the mirror (it’s been a few days) there was nothing but soft curved lines, from your shoulders to your hips to your calves, everything soft and cozy about you is everything that you hate.

Hurt used to be marked in the harsh lines of your hips and your ribs. A quiet pain made public. Made visible. Both evidence and remedy. A soft punishment. Even if you stopped starving yourself and started eating, the desire for hurt and the need for it has never really gone away.

But there are three ways that you hurt yourself; with food, with sex, and with this.

You feel so fucking useless. You couldn’t even respond to Jin’s texts. He deserved a response, didn’t he? He does so much for the pack- but you couldn’t even do that. You left him hanging. disappointing your pack omega is something you can't bear. Jin only wanted to try and include you in something and yet- you fucked it up. You always fuck it up.

It’s just a single momentary lapse. A re-lapse. That’s what people might call it.

Hobi says something to you but you’re not listening.

You can just touch it for a second, press the hot pot to the space between your thumb and your wrist. It will look like you’ve turned into the pot on accident. That’s what you’ll say if anyone notices later. You could probably hide the mark until tomorrow under the sleeve of Hobi’s sweatshirt. Maybe the red-hot skin will bubble so you can pick at it. Maybe you'll be able to make the hurt last a little longer.

It will hurt and then everything will be clear again. A perfect exchange. With the pain, you’ll be able to eat tonight, and then they won’t be so worried. It will keep them off your back for a little while longer. You just want to pretend for a little while longer. You might not even have a nightmare tonight. You’ll feel it every time you touch something, every time you touch them. You’ll pay for the emptiness in your chest that way. The pain both punishment and reminder.

You’re not above exchanging one bad habit for another.

You’re moving, already decided on it. Reaching towards the hot pot, bracing yourself for a momentary lash of pain and then endless ache. Bracing for it.

Hobi’s hands are crumpling up the plastic bag when he turns. Ready to throw it in the garbage can. It feels like he watches you reach for it in slow motion.

He’s moving before he’s even really registered what he’s doing. Instincts taking over, energy and adrenaline bursting. Alpha's protectiveness rankled into something that looks like putting his body between you and the pot before you have a chance to move another inch. He backs you up against the island in three smooth strides. So abruptly that he’s probably a little too rough with you.

But panic makes Hobi rough. Makes him less careful.

The stone countertop presses hard into your spine- hurting. Hobi’s hands you’re your wrists are biting and tight, your heartbeat thudding against his fingers. Holding you up, keeping you from falling as his body makes you stumble.

There’s a high-pitched buzzing in your ears, the low drone and hum like an airplane moving overhead. You look up at him.

You have never seen Hobi’s eyes this wide, dilated with fear and panic, but even now- it feels so far away. One second it is just the humming and then cacophonous, the sound of his breathing, but bubble snapping crack of oil and the smell of burning things. Not you- not your hand, just the food. Hobi’s looking down at you, horrified.

Luckily, he got to you in time.

The world tilts on its axis as you look up into Hobi’s face. Eyes wide with fear. Startled. Not there. Face stricken and a small little half-breath hitching.

There is a single moment of silence, where he should let you go, should remove his hands from around your wrists. Your heartbeat thuds against his palms. There. Beat beat beat, and Hobi’s pulse is thundering in his ears too. The beat of his soul excited and going double time to match your rhythm. Crescendo and Diminuendo all at once.

Yoongi’s at the door, watching the two of you. Behind your back.

And then all sudden, your brain is rushing over itself, panic at being discovered, a near frantic need to hide. “That wasn’t- I wasn’t” you stutter. Trying to lie when things are bad is so hard. The words caught in your throat. It’s okay, you can just pretend can’t you?

“Where you-” he can’t finish the sentence, can’t make his mouth say the words because- fuck- fuck-

He knows what you were just trying to do, he’s seen it. In the evidence of little burns on your fingers, and small bruises on your hips from 'bumping' into things. He’s seen you giggle and move away and say “I’m just clumsy” but you’re not just clumsy. It’s not just clumsiness when hurting is all that you can think about.

“I’m fine Yoongi. I’m fine- just tired.” How many times have you said that over the last few weeks? Dozens? Hundreds?

You roll your eyes in a last-ditch effort, feigning annoyance that Hobi is only too familiar with, “Hobi doesn’t know what he saw. I’m fine.”

Hobi feels like he’s just been slapped. The words sting where they land. And Oh, now that feels like a betrayal. That’s gaslighting, isn’t it? Hobi knows what you’re doing, just reacting because you feel threatened but he’s all too familiar with that sort of lying.

He’s heard it a thousand times- the last time he loved a woman- love was only like that.

“I’m sorry I didn’t pull away from kissing you, it’s all in your head, I know you have a hard time believing it when we say we want you, but really Hobi- we can only try so hard. What? We aren’t abusing you. All relationships are like this. You've just never been in one before.

"It’s all in your fucking head.”

And oh- oh fuck. Hobi feels like he’s about to start screaming at you. Feels like someone’s just pulled the rug out from underneath him. You are anything but fine. He feels like he’s going to be sick.

Yoongi's eyes flicker from Hobi to you, mouth settling into an unhappy line.

Hobi's breathing is shaky and brittle, loud in the quiet of everyone waiting, everyone watching. His heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s going to fall out and land at your feet.

It's yours anyway.

Oh.

Oh.

Hobi can’t breathe and love has never been crueler. But that’s the truth, isn’t it? Both you and him are frozen. Love, like Medusa’s kiss, has made you both statues. The rest of the pack is too.

Even standing there, even hurting him, Hobi still loves you. He looks at you and he aches, a bone-deep sort of wanting, a claim that not even disappointment can touch. Hobi has always been willing to compromise too much in the name of love. To be hurt by someone and still love them is a special kind of devotion.

Yoongi moves, cutting through everyone standing like statues. Yoongi gets between the two of you.

Yoongi doesn’t scruff you often, it’s just not his style. But Hobi finds himself watching every second of it as his pretty fingers close around your neck, pulling until you sag against him. Until the words get pulled from you by your mate's touch, choking out the truth from you. If anyone makes you honest it’s Yoongi.

"Nope, I'm not letting you hurt him to hurt yourself, I refuse. Try again sweetheart."

Yoongi's fingers pull the words out of you in a heaving sobbing breath. The power of the mating mark bearing down. Yoongi's beta pheromones echo out- for the first time unencumbered and unrestrained. Your knees go weak, and you bend.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean- I’m sorry- I wasn’t-”

But all of your excuses and lies fall short. You pick your head off Yoongi’s shoulder and move, reaching out for Hobi weakly.

Hobi backs up so quickly that he bangs his hip against the kitchen island. Shaking his head. Avoiding your touch because- oh- he’s crying so hard he can’t see. Hot and furious tears wet his cheeks.

“Yeah- fuck that- fuck this- fuck you- I’m done- I’m out.”

He’s not running, but it feels like he might be as he moves to the door, yanking his jacket off of the hooks so hard he rips the collar of it. But he’s suffocating from all the scents in the room. A cacophony of sadness pulling his instincts in one direction and his mind pulling him in another. Dizzy with them.

“Hobi- wait-”

“No. I can't- can't do this.” Torn between two upset packmates, Yoongi has you and Jimin and Tae start in Hobi's direction. But he raises a finger at them in a warning. "Don't you fucking dare. I mean it."

He loves you, doesn’t he? That’s what all these moments have been, even if Hobi had never thought it. He sees every moment with you like a supercut:

You and him sitting by the ocean, his head in your lap. You and him on opposite sides of the nest, him telling you that it’s okay for you to sleep here. That moment in the oceanside shop- watching you organize his sea spoils, clutching the poem that Tae wrote. Hobi still has it somewhere didn't it say something about keeping you like one of his safe and special things in his pocket?

The moment just before when you’d almost fallen into the ocean and Hobi had felt like for a moment his heart was about to tear out of his chest in panic. When he'd scolded you for not being careful.

This feels just like that, only there are no waves to save you from. Hobi can do nothing but look at you, small and scared and so dangerous in Yoongi’s arms. being held because if he lets you go right now it might have disastrous side effects.

Hobi’s still in the supercut; The moment in the flower shop, both of you behind the frosty glass, side by side. Always next to him, in his passenger seat. Your spot.

Your spot is right next to him and his is right next to you.

How did he not realize? Why did it take him so long to notice this? This living breathing wounded thing in his chest is love. Soft and delightful and terrifying. It's a wounded love, one that needs to be looked after like a wilting flower but still- it's a garden nonetheless.

If home is not where you’re from but where you’re wanted- then does that make Hobi your home?

That first night when you’d been leaving the coffee shop and fallen, seconds before he’d fallen too. You both have matching scars on your hands from that night. Small and barely there. Hobi hardly thinks about it. They’ll certainly heal over with time. But how could he forget that you have matching scars?

Both you and Hobi have always been a mirror, the same image reversed, identical hurts but maybe not identical people, like a funhouse version of the same trauma.

Running from his emotions is simple and easy especially when it's as scary as loving someone so hurt.

Oh he doesn’t want you to hurt. He can't stand it. He loves you, standing there getting scruffed by Yoongi, crying and hurting and dying slowly. But all of you are dying slowly, so what if it takes 80 years roughly- for the dying to stick?

He loves you, and there has never been a more terrible truth. That you have hurt him maybe. The sting from you trying to gaslight him and the others is only just fading and yet- he loves you anyways.

He remembers the night you went racing when his car got dented. He should have known. He should have known when his first instinct upon verifying you were alright was to kiss you senseless.

Hobi looks at you one last time from the open door, standing there, hand on the smooth molding that Yoongi painted shortly after the pack moved in, after Namjoon had accidentally broken part of it while moving in some furniture. Every inch of this house is stitched with familiar moments like that.

How many mornings has he watched you get your coffee? Or that time you’d gotten sick after dinner and Hobi had made you tea to settle your stomach. His heart is clenching so hard at all the memories that it makes him let out a single choked sob. A broken breath.

He can’t bear it. Seeing you look so broken and trying to hide it. Reaching out to him from your mate's arms. He hates it, hates that you’re hurting. That he can’t do anything about it.

At least Yoongi is there, Yoongi will keep you from hurting yourself again. Yoongi is the only one who doesn’t shout his name. Giving Hobi his tacit permission because he knows- he must know.

Maybe Yoongi has known since the beginning.

Hoseok slams the door shut behind him.

~-~

The pack is silent for a few moments after Hobi’s departure. Stunned long enough that you can hear Hobi’s car start with that same rush of gas and nitrous oxide. Everyone is silent as it screeches away from the curb. Too fast. Howling as it tears off down the street.

Far away you think you might hear something honk at him.

They just stand there- looking at you and you feel like you’re under a microscope. Yoongi steps away from you, cupping your cheeks. “Oh pup.”

But your pleas get softer and softer. Jimin is the first one to move, not to you but to the food first. Turning off the burners and pushing the pots back, away from where anyone could touch them. Dismantling the threats before he tends to you.

Jin moves next, because Jimin doesn't go far enough- clearing the pot clear off the counter and dumping them into the sink- food and all. Anything to cool the metal down. anything to make that threat inert as quick as possible.

Yoongi has big rough hands that cup your cheeks, murmuring soft sweet nothings as you cry and cry. Maybe these tears are the ones you choked back. Every time something violent happened to you with Geumjae, after every backhanded slap and forward-facing insult finally released. You saved your tears away for this moment when the sadness wouldn’t stick.

If you bottle up the sadness, it has to get out somehow.

Namjoon beats the rest of them to you. Crossing the room and enveloping you and Yoongi in his long arms. just as quickly you're not just wrapped up in him but everyone. Jungkook all but throws the milk onto the counter in favor of literally trying to pick you up. Tae’s wrist smells rosey where it’s pressed close across your shoulder; anything to get her hands on you. All of them close close close, and you at the center, a careful little bundle.

You say you’re sorry, again and again, but the words are met with shushes. When you are hurting so uncontrollably, what do you possibly have to be sorry for? You bite like a hurt dog, and you never blame the dog, do you? So why blame yourself for hurting, for not doing better when better is just so hard.

Being found out doesn’t feel good. None of this was ever about getting more care or concern- this feels truly awful. Your secret out in the open. Found out. You push at Yoongi’s hands, choking out, trying to be articulate but you’re so soggy.

The others resist for a second, mistaking your fighting for something else, Jimin's hands fall tentatively onto your wrists, unsure if he should hold you back. But Yoongi- Yoongi knows, looking down at you, the hair on the back of his neck curling against the nape.

“Please go- please go after him-” Yoongi doesn’t want to. You can see it in his eyes that he doesn’t want to leave you like this. Can hardly stomach leaving you.

“Sweetheart you just-“

“Yoongi.” Your voice shakes, but you need him to understand you. Hobi just slipped through the door and you want to wonder what will happen if he doesn’t come back. “Go after him- please- Please. Make sure he’s okay.” Thats what I need.

It takes Yoongi a single look to decide it's okay to leave you. He makes eye contact with Namjoon, Tae, Jimin, Jin, and Jungkook to verify that they’ve got you before he moves. Bursting into action. He’s unable to disobey a request from his mate. If this is what will make you better, if Hobi is what will make you better, then Yoongi would drag him back from the gates of hell by his goddamn ear. That stupidly fast stupid fucking car and all.

Yoongi can’t help but think that if you could see the way you look right now- if it was him in your shoes- you’d have never done this.

Yoongi’s kiss to the top of your head is a little forceful, a little tearful too. You don’t realize that he’s been crying too until he wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve. Yoongi stumbles, almost falling face first and tripping over the carpet as he looks back. “Jin- Namjoon- look after her. Jimin- don’t let her out of your sight for a fucking second." Joon nods, your pack alpha easily tolerates being ordered about at a time like this.

The pack keeps their voices soft and hushed, the ruined dinner abandoned in favor of comforting an obviously upset packmate. The unanimous decision gets made to usher you upstairs. Their first priority of course is getting you somewhere away from where you could hurt yourself; a place peaceful and safe and comfort incarnate.

The nest.

You don’t know how you really end up there, on the edge of the nest, Jungkook is already inside with fresh blankets. An emergency nesting bundle is already on demand for exact situations like this. He might have said something about there already being one in the direr downstairs getting warmed up. You might have missed it. You're missing a lot of things right now.

When did things that used to feel comforting begin to feel so mundane? It’s not the same as taking it for granted, you’d give anything to be comforted by Jungkook's reassurance that he'll make the best nest he can for you.

You’d give anything to be comforted when Namjoon leans close to kiss your forehead. Lingering there, with his lips against your skin but it feels hollow. Holy mouths cradling the words of god and finding them foreign. False gods and lying prophets. Namjoon's kisses cannot cure everything.

The room is dark, only the light from the bathroom and the changing room spilling into the open space.

“Were you trying to touch the pot to hurt yourself, sweetheart?” You go statue still. Not shaking your head, not showing any sign that you’ve heard Namjoon’s careful prodding at all even though you must have heard his whispered question. Jimin’s hand goes up and down your waist, gently coaxing you into movement. How long has this been going on? How long has the pack been unaware?

“Have you hurt yourself that way before?” Your hands are both clenched into tight fists, the bones and muscles protesting. He drags your hand across his lips, kissing your fingertips, still not looking at his face.

“Don’t be angry with me- please don’t be mad Joonie-“ Namjoon bites the inside of his cheek.

“We’re not angry at you really, we’re not. I’m not. I just want to help, okay? I’m not going to scold you or punish you for this, I don’t think that would help just-” Namjoon swallows, “you’re not going to try again? Are you?” Are you a danger to yourself?

“No” you choke out, “I don’t know. I-” Your words cut off, Your hand is so small when it darts out, circling his wrist, holding on vice tight, your voice rough and ragged. “Namjoon, I think there’s something wrong with me. I think I’m sick.”

Namjoon's breath hitches, and he waits, waits for you to ask him to take you to the hospital. but it doesn't come. Namjoon holds you, his hands around your back vice-like. He can feel the frantic beat of your heart through your shirt.

“It’s okay pup, if there’s something wrong, I can fix it.”

Most of the time, he hopes it's true. This time he knows it means he’ll make it so. He hesitates for a second before detaching from you. Because if you really are sick then maybe a doctor is what you're missing. Maybe you don't need pack alpha Joonie right now, maybe you just need Dr. Kim.

“Gimme a second, okay? I’ll be right back.” You barely have time to miss him or make grabby hands because Jin takes his place the second he steps away from you. Jimin too- descends upon you as Namjoon heads downstairs, taking them two at a time. Almost barreling head-first into Tae catching her at the last second.

“Tae” her name sounds like a wretched gasp coming from Namjoon’s throat, he catches her by the elbows, “could you find me some like- some band aids or something? I have bandages in my bag but-“

Tae looks devastated, eyebrows pulling together, She lets out a shaky breath, eyes glassy, mascara already smudged. “Then she really did it then? Is that why-”

“No- gods no- thank fuck” (Namjoon does not believe in god, but he does believe in the power of Hobi, which is equally as holy in his mind.) “I’m just going to try something different than just cuddling. And I think Band-Aids might help.”

Tae whipes her tears, smudging her eyeliner too in a little panda circle. but she's emboldened with this task to complete. Determined. "Okay, bandaids- got it."

Upstairs, Jin cups your cheeks pushing back your hair from your face and rubbing the tears away with a thumb. Jimin busies himself with unzipping Hobi’s sweatshirt and pushing it off your shoulders to get a look at your arms. You know what he’s doing, checking your body efficiently for marks. Any evidence of hurt.

All of the burns on your hands are days old. Half of them actually were accidents.

Jimin's fingers linger over the burn scar on the inside of your arm, so faint it's barely darker than the color of your skin. The scar is the very first one he ever dotted with burn cream and wrapped with aloe vera. Jimin remembers the very first time he held your hands like this, the very first time he was allowed to.

Have you been hurting like this for that long?

Jimin’s jaw clenches, struggling to keep his scent comforting and mild. It’s only when he verifies that you didn’t actually just get burned a few minutes ago that he nods. Jin speaks, his voice a soft purr. Things are happening so fast, there are so many people around you and yet so few.

Their focus feels suffocating as you cry and cry and cry. He leans forward pressing his forehead to yours, and Jimin continues his careful touches up and down your arms. Soothing the skin there- treasuring it in a way he didn’t before. He'll never take it for granted again wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you snug.

“Oh, my little pup, we’ve been neglecting you haven’t we? Jinnie's so sorry" There is something achingly soft about that. No Daddy, no omega title, just Jinnie. Maybe Jin is just Jin for now. Just exactly who you need him to be. No other esoterisies or other defining egos- just your person.

He coaxes you gently to sit on the bed and half on his lap. Pulling your thighs over his hips to cradle you in a way that would be sexual any other time but isn't right now. Holding you by the back of your neck and the small of your back snug to his hips. Pressed to his chest, smack dab between his pectorals really. buffered by every uneven breath.

"There we go, come nest with me- let me- here-” The nest is the safest place for an unsafe pup. And you sag into it. Jin looms over you, a warm living waiting blanket. Even though it’s a little dark in there. Even though you don’t feel the safest, the pack still is safe, you know that logically- that has to count for something.

Despite your trying, your chest goes leash tight when Jin guides you to it. You perfunctorily start to fluff a pillow. Sniffling. Because you know what being in the nest with Jin and Jungkook usually means. Even if you really don’t have the energy for nesting right now. You perform all that you can.

Until there are arms rope tight around your waist, and a hard body behind yours. The tears drop, pitter-pattering against the coverlet and Jungkook hisses gently.

“No. Stop. Just let us do it.” Jin shakes his head too. You never thought Jungkook and Jin would tag team you like this. But you're in the middle of a Jinkook sandwich. Jungkook teeths restlessly at the back of your neck, not enough of a scruff too soothe you.

“For tonight- this is my nest and you’re my pup, it’s not your job to nest tonight, it’s not your job to do anything but let us look after you.” You gulp, nodding even though you can hardly see.

Namjoon comes back, holding his doctor's bag. You shift back to the edge of the nest where Jimin takes off your socks, feet, and cracked red nail polish that Tae did a few weeks ago on your toenails. The sole memory from a night of happiness stubbornly refusing to fade even though so much has changed.

Maybe the happiness is stubborn too- not just the fear and sadness. Namjoon smiles down at you. Plopping his bag down on the floor (not the nest- because he will not cross-contaminate it). His stethoscope has his initials on it; KNJ in little gold writing. “Alright, lean forward for me.”

You lean forward under Namjoon’s arm so that he can slide your shirt up your back and his hand too. He warms the circle of the stethoscope between his palms before he presses it to your skin.

you breathe when he guides you to do so. “You know I’m not like sick sick- what I said earlier- I didn’t mean like this.” You don’t say something like what you want to, something like mental health isn’t really on the same level as other health- like Jungkook’s seizures or Tae’s hormones. because you know they'd just argue.

Namjoon shakes his head, “Nonsense. If you say you’re sick, then I’m going to treat you like you are.” Namjoon slides the stethoscope from the bottom of your ribs to the top and then over.

“Breathe deep for me. Good pup. Doing so good for me.”

Jungkook fluffs the edge of a blanket, setting one duvet like a layer cake over top of another. “It could be sexy doctor roleplay, we haven’t done that in a while only like- without the sex.”

“Jungkook- now is so not the time.”

“Sorry.”

“Eyes up here, follow the light for me pup, good.” Somewhere between breathing deep for Namjoon and letting him put the blood pressure cuff over your arm, you've stopped crying. He double-checks when he times it. Taking it again just to be sure.

“Your bp's a little high. So no physical activity for the next few hours, it’s probably just the stress. I want to take it again when you've calmed down just to be sure.”

Namjoon gets himself into the nest, caging you in, his medical bag forgotten for now. You feel- you feel so dirty when he looks at you, dripping with sadness as he pulls himself close. Tae comes barreling up the stairs, clutching a little box in her hands, “They were in one of our beach bags, I knew I saw them somewhere weird!”

Namjoon holds out his hand and Tae hands them over. Namjoon sits on his knees, opening them up, already unwrapping one when you spy them in the half-light.

“Band-Aids? What for? I’m not- I didn’t bleed or anything.” You look down at your lap, shame, and relief tightening your fists. “Hobi stopped me.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need them.” Namjoon guides your wrist face up and applies the first one. It's just plain tan but the little baggie that Tae has a few colored ones; ones with hearts on them, even a blue Ryan one. They quickly get distributed amongst the others. Tae delicately places one on your elbow.

“That one wasn’t-“ you try to say, but Jin still presses a kiss to one on your knuckles. Jimin to the ball of your wrist.

“You’re wasting band-aids on me” but they hold your hands, diligently putting one on each little mark, each little thing that might be a mark of self-hatred so keen that you need to make it real.

“They don’t hurt anymore, I don’t even like pick at them a lot.” Jin levels you with a suspicious look. There are maybe less than a dozen little marks up and down your arms. Most of them were accidents, a few were accidents that maybe you saw coming but didn’t avoid, and about 3 or 4 were purposeful.

They don’t discriminate, putting a band-aid on each of them. All of them get covered one by one. Jungkook puts a large one- the kind meant for knee scrapes on one that’s maybe the side of a penny. “Doesn’t matter. if you’re hurting- if you were hurt- we want to fix it for you.” They cover your arms with Band-Aids, and each of them gets one or two marks to cover up, crowding around you.

They don’t even put them only on your bruises and bumps and burns but in other places too. Tae puts a tiny pink one over your mating mark, the torn part at the top of it from Geumjae’s teeth- not the smaller brighter mark in the center that’s Yoongi’s. Jin hesitates, pulling the collar of your shirt down before he puts one over your heart.

Tae watches, thinking of a poem she saw on TikTok a few days back. 'Let me love those bruises out of you, we’ll love like children with a box of bandages, we won’t ask where it hurts, we’ll just kiss all of it.' She could probably find it if she tried hard enough. Maybe later- when you’re sleeping. She already knows that the pack isn’t going to sleep much tonight. The alphas will probably want to switch on and off if anyone can even convince Jimin to sleep at all. Tae knows he’ll take Yoongi’s request of 'don’t take your eyes off of her' literally.

Jimin's on your other side hand around your waist, keeping you from scratching at your skin, maybe you did that a few seconds ago. Your skin burns a little either way. You’re having trouble keeping track of everything that’s happening. But Jimin is watching you like Yoongi said too. He hardly blinks.

When they’re done they let you put on Hobi’s sweatshirt again. Namjoon waits for it to be on all the way before he presses your hand, pulling you to sit next to him, on top of him really.

Namjoon thinks about what this house would be like- if you weren’t here. He thinks about what the pack would be like if you weren’t in it. An image that once upon a time felt complete- now makes his heart pucker sour.

Oh, my fragile little love.

resting against his chest in much the same way that you rested against Jin's, He plays with your fingers, letting you press them against his, how small they care compared to his. In another world maybe you are big and scary. Maybe this is the price you pay for being so small. Too big emotions fill your head begging to be expressed in any way they can. Namjoon plays with your hands while Jin and Jungkook make the nest.

Jungkook ducks low, nuzzling into your cheek, pausing where he was incorporating your big blue blanket tight around you.

“Do you want to like- take a shower or something? Wash the sad off?” You shake your head stubbornly, pressing your cheek further into Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if that would help.”

Jungkook pouts, trying not to be hurt that his suggestion is shut down. Your eyelashes flutter. You are not a fan of confessing things, but Jungkook deserves a lack of…whatever this is.

“I don’t- I don’t like feel clean- like ever.” Your pack waits for you to explain it further, to go into it. And it takes you a breath. You really don’t like talking about it- the grubbiness that’s always lurking just below your skin. The kind that can’t be scrubbed or burned or starved out.

"I can wash my body 100 times and it never takes away what he did from me." Your breath hitches, and you look down at the Band-Aids dotting your arms like constellations. What they hide. "He took so much, sometimes I wonder if you'd love the unamaged version of me more. Sometimes it’s so frustrating not having evidence. Not having a wound that I can nurse and heal and It just- feels better.”

You press your hands flat to your stomach, and you take their silence as something else, some sign of disgust or otherwise (when it's really just devastation. Because what else can they feel upon hearing that there is a version of you that they will never know?) Panic bubbles up and you make excuses because that's all you can do. “It’s fucked up, I know it’s fucked up- You don’t have to say it. Fuck I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m sorry-”

Jimin pulls you snug against him, your hip against his hip, and you realize Jin’s struggling to keep himself from shaking. Your thoughts and words ramble over each other when you’re like this. Anxieties unbound like a wild dog. Jin covers his mouth and turns away for a second to have a quiet freak out about it.

“Don’t apologize. I-“ Jungkook ducks away, hands tight on the blanket. A confession for a confession seems fair. Even if the others will be mad. The words come in a rush once Jungkook’s made the decision to spill them.

“Sometimes, when it feels like I haven’t had a seizure and my body needs to have one, I go to McDonald’s after work and pig out on fries so I can trigger one. Because that feels safer, having control over when I’m gonna get hurt feels safer.”

Namjoon goes deathly still. And Jungkook goes cagey, shoulders pinned to his ears. Jin finally turns back glaring at him. The whole pack glances from him to Namjoon. You wonder if this is what they feel like when they're watching you and Hobi.

“Jungkook-“ Namjoon’s tone is that of a scolding alpha, but your scent eases. You pull yourself over to Jungkook, getting your hand on his and holding it tight.

“No- I get it, I get it so much. I know exactly what you mean.”

Control, and a lack of it. It’s so scary how it can make you act. Control is sometimes more necessary than food or happiness or love.

Namjoon leans in to kiss the shell of your ear rather than shout at Kookie. You whine, a choked needy sound that quickly gets feverish when namjoon mouths at the nape of your neck. an alpha bite so close is a soothing thing.

You squirm a little, both needy and overstimulated a bit. This is the right kind of contact, the kind you usually like but you’re too restless to enjoy it properly right now.

“Do you think Hobi’s going to come back?”

“Of course, he is.”

“If Yoongi can’t get him we’d bring him back.” Jimin and Jin make pregnant eye contact, terse and dark. Harrowing.

You’re not paying attention to Jungkook looking down at his phone vibrating in his lap. “Speak of the devil” he murmurs, unheard by all, Jin gets you a cup of water and hands it to Namjoon. Who feeds sips of it to you like a baby bird.

Jungkook's phone is as bright as a passing comet, hope visible to the naked eye.

Hoe-baby (8:56): If she sleeps before I’m home you better get her a fucking nightlight or something. Don’t let it be dark when she’s sleeping. Pass it on.

Hoe-baby (8:56): Don’t tell her I’m texting you this either.

Hoe-baby (8:56): I mean it Koo

Jungkook (8:57): 👍👍👍

Jungkook (8:57): but also 👀

Hobi doesn’t respond but Jungkook is generally obedient if the stakes are high enough. An idea lights his eyes (bright and sparkly). He slips from the nest with a “one second” and heads downstairs, his absence goes uncommented on as he disappears into one of the closets, searching through winter coats and gloves and mittens for the box labeled christmas decorations.

The others keep you substantially occupied in his absence. “My pup.” Seokjin murmurs, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek. The gentle contact draws your teary eyes from the nest to meet Jin’s concerned gaze. His calming pheromones swell thicker in the air, instinctively trying to soothe you without even touching you.

How selfish it is to take this night; this could have been a good night if you’d only-

Jimin yanks you clean into his lap, and you go from sitting sort of curled up over yourself in Namjoon's lap to lounging across his body in two seconds. “Stop it.” Jimin’s words are a growl, his touch forceful as he hunches over you. “Stop whatever you’re thinking about right now and listen to us.”

His thumb slides down your cheek from your ear to your chin. “Your scent does this thing and your pupils constrict you know- when you think self-deprecating shit.”

“Sorry.” you squeak, letting him tilt your head to the side. It feels better to be under his touch, his harsh hand anchoring. “It’s just hard-I’m just,” The wobbliness of your voice betrays you.

Teeth feel sharp when they nip at the back of your neck making your legs turn to jelly. Jimin gives you another soothing nip after the first, several in quick succession- Making your scent burst sweet Just a little. it’s a start. He dips down and laps at your salty cheeks, his thumbs continuing their steady circular rhythm on your scent gland, releasing the tightness in your chest forcefully.

It’s very very hard to be sad with Jimin scruffing you like that, pulling the skin taut. Choking you a bit so that you can feel every breath. It’s settling. Makes you sniffle and teeter when he lets you go. Namjoon doesn’t pull you back to sit in a more equal position, instead watching you with a warm satisfied gaze. He nuzzles closer to Jimin’s side. Pausing to drag his cheek down the side of your head, his short-cropped hair feels all spiky.

In Jimin’s lap, a safe cradle. Namjoon’s hands skim up and down your arms, lingering on your hands. Namjoon swallows thick, there isn’t an easy way to ask. “You told me not to push you, you know, and I won’t but-” Namjoon's warm palms cover yours, “you make it a little hard not to.”

“I know.” Your throat is tight with anguish. You’re surprised you have any more tears left.

“Was there something- anything- that we did? Or didn’t do?” Namjoon has been waiting to ask about his rut, waiting for days since Hobi confessed he had his suspicions, his suspicions that obviously must be correct.

“No- there wasn’t anything, it’s just me Joonie- I promise.”

Namjoon swallows. He doesn’t like to cry and has never been an easy crier, but it's a struggle to not let them take him right now. “I wish I could fix it.”

“You do fix it." You try for a smile but fall abysmally short. You don’t trust your wobbly voice enough to speak again, and carefully snuggle into Namjoon’s chest.

You’re breathing sort of heavy, sort of shallow too, the kind of breath that sticks when it rolls beneath your rib cage and feels like a death rattle. Jimin presses his hand to your stomach, holding it like he can keep the anguish at bay. He does for a second. A silent sentinel. A guard. He’s living up to Yoongi’s orders and following them to a T like the good alpha that he is.

Jungkook reappears, clutching a green tangle in his hands, you mistake it for one of hobi's pathos vines- “hang on, I just have to check to make sure they’re working-” he plugs them in, holding the Christmas lights like a mini constellation of stars that light him up from below. All of them work. "Ah-ha!"

“What are you doing with those?”

“In the nest- Hobi-” Jungkook breaks off, worried after a second that mentioning him will reaggravate your wounds.

You sit up a little bit more, “Hobi what?”

"He texted. Said you might want some of these, for a nightlight.” Jungkook holds up the lights and they clatter into each other with a faint tinkle. they're the brightest thing in the room.

You deflate a little, but Namjoon rubs his arm up and down your side. "I'm not a kid, it's not like it's the dark it's just the nightmares-"

"For the record, none of us would judge you if you were scared of the dark."

"Yeah- Hobi's scared of snakes and I'm scared of microwaves sometimes."

"I'm scared of spiders."

"Tae- Everyone's a little scared of spiders."

"I'm not!"

Their teasing brings a small smile to your lips, even if it is a little bit wet. Namjoon ducks down to press his lips to your forehead. “He’ll be back before morning sweetheart, I promise.”

“Okay,” you look like you don’t have any more energy to argue- to be sad over this. Re-settling against Namjoon’s chest. Watching Jungkook detangle the lights while Jin ducks downstairs to get the command hooks (dissatisfied with Jungkook’s chosen thumbtacks, the last thing you need is these falling on top of you while you sleep)

Jin stands with Tae, feet depressing the nest as he helps her, passing them back and forth. Jungkook found two strings of 100, and it's more than enough to go up and down the sides of the nook a few times and crisscross the top.

“Wait- let's plug this one in over here so we can turn it on with the light switch-”

"No Jk not like that."

They go back and forth, making quick work of it. Slowly the nesting nook brightens. Not too bright, but just enough that you can see the light when your eyes flutter closed. It might not be that late, but you're bone tired.

“Are you sure? Isn’t this gonna like- keep you all awake.”

Jimin sits up, “I got you like- a million silk face masks Tae. In that one box?”

“The silk night clothes set you got me from that fancy Italian designer.” You know the one, Tae wears them a lot, you wear them too- even though her pants are a little long on you. Tae leaves and gets the night masks (stored away in a drawer where Jungkook has been putting all of her accessories in the other room).

She retrieves them, a whole handful, and leaves them by the front of the nest for everyone to pick the one they want. Jimin snags the black one. Jungkook the purple one with the red hearts and Namjoon the one with the frog eyes. Each different one, a different color. They’ll sleep with them on tonight for you if it means it makes you feel a little safer.

“Isn’t that- too much?” You ask, “We don’t have to leave them on.” Tae pulls herself over kind of sprawled across your legs, with Namjoon on one side, Jimin on the other, and Tae at your front. You’re about as safe as an omega could possibly get. Surrounded on all sides by your alpha's.

And still, you miss Hobi.

You can't believe what you did, what you said to him, even though it was in the heat of the moment.

“It’s not too much, not if it helps."

Tae sits close, holding onto your leg for a second before you switch spots, and you’re lying across Namjoon and across Jimin and across her. Namjoon’s hands tease at your skull. Big big hands that hold you and keep the world at bay while you watch Jin and Jungkook set up the Christmas lights.

They’re a little too messy where Jungkook puts them up and a little too orderly where Jin strings them but together it’s the perfect mix.

You watch them with the alpha, the pretty twinkle, the little shadows that they cast on the ceiling. Namjoon sighs “It’s kind of crazy that humans made those just cuz.”

“I was ready about death myths the other day,” Tae says, too close to the point of this all, her voice a low murmur. But her tone is casual. The idea of death has never been scary for Tae. If anything in those brief moments when she came out it felt a bit too much like salvation. you don't know what about namjoon's comment made her think of that- but tae's mind has always worked in mysterious beautiful ways.

stories always sound a little too real, a little too close to being torn into existence, when the words fall from her tongue. “In the Aztec religion they say that a dog guides you along the first like- layer of the afterlife. And if you didn’t have one in this life you can’t get across.”

“We had farm dogs, growing up,” Namjoon says, “I don’t know if that counts.”

Jungkook snorts, and at the same time you both respond, “There’s always Hobi” “Dibs on Yoongi”

One second you’re looking at each other, heads tipped back in laughter, rolling over and pressing your face into his heaving chest, and the next you’re crying. “Sorry- sorry” you’re half laughing half crying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” sad and happy at the same time. it feels good, being sad-happy feels so good when you have people that take care of you in the right ways.

And still, You miss Yoongi. And still, you miss Hobi.

You curl away, getting your cheek on Tae's thigh. She must not have shaved in a few days because it feels all stubbly, but in that pleasant worn sensory sort of way. You wipe your tears on her skin and she makes a fond sound. “It’s okay baby, you cry as much as you need to- laugh as much as you need to too.”

Tae is looking at you, eyes darting from your lips to your hands to your eyes, especially when you rub your clenched fist across them, lying in her lap looking fragile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just” Tae breathes deep and slow, so that she doesn’t cry, “I just look at you, and I love you, and I just want you to be alright.”

For once in her life Tae doesn’t have the words. Sitting there with you a mess on the inside and a slightly more put togeather mess on the outside. Her bracelets jingle when she wipes her eyes.

Her chest feels too tight, too small for all the love inside of it (boobs are where the love is stored, and Tae's still a B cup at best). Butterflies flutter around her ribcage but it's always that way when she looks at you. You reach up to tangle your hand in those bracelets. They're a mess of silver chains and smaller ones that Jimin got for her. Some of them she got when she was still play-acting as a boy. She still wears them almost every day.

“More than anything, I just- I love being with you. I love being a girl with you. Being with you makes it easier to love me, and the idea that I can’t do the same for you- that hurts." Her voice quiets. "You’re so strong- I think about it a lot you know. That first day.”

You can’t stop the sad smile from tugging at your cheeks. “When I shouted at that alpha for you?”

“Yeah, that. If there was someone I could shout at, I’d scream. If there was a story I could write for you that would make you better I’d write until my fingers bleed.

"I look at you and there’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for you. If I could be a dog, I’d wait to take you to the other side. I’d wait forever.” Her tears feel treacherous, unwanted, because now you’re crying again too. You start to pull yourself over to her only to have her shush you. You lie your legs across her legs and cry together, sniffling, wiping at each other’s faces. You murmur that you love her and she says it back too.

“Can you read me a story?” You sniffle, eyes darting to the others, cautious "The way you do when it's just us?" But Tae nods easily. This is easy to concede. She'd give you whatever you wanted right now regardless of the potential for judgment (the pack would never judge her, would never dream of it but the fear is still there.)

“I think I really do just need to sleep.”

Jin stoops to give you a good night's kiss. "We can talk more in the morning, once you've had some real rest."

"In the morning, when Hobi's back," you agree.

Tae detangles herself from you with a final kiss and goes downstairs, just as Jin and Jungkook finish the Christmas lights. They glitter above you in the perfect constellation of light. The perfect bright spot in the sea of darkness. You wonder what it looks like from the outside. If the people on your street can see the light up here through the windows.

Her footsteps creak on the steps, and someone knots their hand in your hair, scratching against your scalp. You don’t have to look and see who. You’re sort of hungry. Sort of nauseous too.

You’re halfway through the third book in the Percy Jackson series but Tae doesn’t bring that up. Instead, she brings her laptop.

There are stickers on the edge that she got from a makeup company, a heart with a funky face; yellow lips and straight across eyebrows, a sparkly boba one, and a tiny blue bunny. Tae sits and scoots up to sit by Namjoon. Everyone goes still, unwilling to spook Tae if it’s something that she’s ready to share.

She’s never read you her writing before and you won’t miss this chance. Jimin pulls himself along your spine, nosing at your shoulder until you turn so he can rub your back. Your shoulders are always sort of tense, always sort of hard, a sign of bad posture or post-traumatic stress disorder maybe. Constant fear and anxiety can do a whole lot of damage to your body if left unchecked.

“Switch off with me when your hands get tired yeah?” Jungkook says, and your eyes flutter as Jimin pushes you to lie belly down into the bed, it feels so soft you think it might swallow you whole. You think you’d like that a little too much. But you also think that the pack would want to know that so you say it.

“Tell us okay? when you have any more thoughts like that, we want to hear them.”

“They scare me less when I tell you them. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.” Tae’s left hand is in your hair and she uses her right to scroll through her Word document. Jimin’s hands work at your shoulders. Rubbing in smooth little circles finding the knots and eliminating them with a practiced ease.

“Are you- ugh, okay with starting at a part I don’t think is best, I’m really shaky on the beginning?”

“Sure-“

“Whatever part you want to read Tae,” she licks her lips. It takes her a second to find her place, scrolling past carefully spaced paragraphs and dialogue then back because the end of the story is definitely not what she's most comfortable sharing (not to mention the death scenes and that weird fight scene, Tae hates how she can't make written word feel like an action movie).

Tae’s strong suit has always been the dialogue, the in-between parts are a little bit more malleable and prone to re-working.

She takes a deep breath. You close your eyes, and the light of the Christmas lights are behind them, soft and yellow. A glow that you don’t just see but feel too.

And then Tae begins.

“Holly Homburg felt her nose to see if it was broken. It was not the first time she’d been hit in the face, and she knew it would not be the last...”

~-~

After the whole dead body incident, The pack had decided unanimously to turn on their phone locations. Yoongi's thankful for that now. Finding Hobi is not as difficult as it might have been a few short weeks ago.

Yoongi watches the little blue dot plod along and after looking around a little it's easy to tell where he's going. He follows it like a beacon ushering him across the great beyond (or perhaps the way a dog might follow a long-loved soul).

All lost things, no matter how big and broken, end up in the ocean someday.

As far as Yoongi knows this is the first time that Hobi's been back to the beach since that night. But if he cannot be close to you right now without fucking things up then maybe this is the next best place.

The ocean feels as tumultuous as Hobi’s soul, dark and teeming with hidden slimy dangerous things. Turning back and forth, a comforting lull that drowns out Hobi’s thoughts and the itch under his skin. Hobi doesn't like feeling his instincts, doesn't like that they're scratching up the wall. hoseok's alpha fights to convince him to go back, gnawing at the corner of his mind like an under stimulated dog. but there's only one thing, one person that Hobi's alpha wants, and he's not ready for that yet.

The sea tosses spray high into the air like all the words Hobi wishes he could shout and scream. White foam catches the half-full moon's light frothing with hidden violence as hungry as Hobi’s soul.

Yoongi’s beat-up sneakers sink into the sand as he slows his pace. Hoseok's on the edge of the crashing waves, his ass is probably getting wet. But Yoongi’s too worried to care about the sand in his shoes, about anything else as he rushes. Worried, worried more when he see Hoseok's wet cheeks.

Hoseok turns abruptly at the sound of him approaching, Yoongi’s hair pushed up by the sea spray. He jolts to his feet almost shoving Yoongi back with how quick and hard he grips the other's jacket. His first reaction isn’t of thanks. His first reaction is nearly shouted, an alpha barking orders. Bearing his teeth. His cheeks are wet, he's still crying. Yoongi wonders how the fuck he even drove here without crashing.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Go the fuck home.” Yoongi should be home, should be with you, comforting you in the way that only Yoongi can. There is no one you need more than him.

But Yoongi could ask him the same question. Could say the same bitter accusation. Both of them should be home.

“She asked me to come get you.” Hobi huffs, a little gentler. “Do you really think I’d have left if she hadn’t?”

Hobi twists out of yoongi's hands like even the barest mention of you is too much for him right now. “I’m not going back yet, I need-” His hands flex and clench over and over again like he doesn't know what to do with his body. But Yoongi is already pulling him back down to the sand, making to sit next to him. Hobi's knees bury themselves in the sand as he falls, brought so low as to kneel before the sea and ask it for answers. He put his hands in the cold sand, a necessary anchor for his tumultuous thoughts.

Yoongi's sitting close enough to feel his heat. It’s a cold night, not as cold as the night you found the dead body, but still cold. “Jesus Christ, you didn't have to fucking come get me. I just need a fucking minute.”

“Daisy.” Yoongi chides. Yoongi never gets frustrated and that’s part of the problem. He's always gentle, always soft. If Hobi was more like him then maybe he'd stand a chance. Hobi knows even though nothing's happened yet, that whatever love he's prepared to give you will barely hold a candle to Yoongi's sunshine.

“Okay, then I’ll sit here until you do. Keep you company.”

So much of love is just that, just keeping each other company. Hobi's cheeks burn with mortification because he knows Yoongi's watching him. Not watching the ocean. The whole point of sitting so close is that it's right there and still, Yoongi does not look away.

Hobi hasn’t even gotten his headphones, the emergency pair he always keeps in the car. He’s just there, sitting in silence and now he's being watched Which honestly makes him a little annoyed.

Yoongi sits, he sits for a good few minutes. Until he can’t handle the silence any longer.

“She didn’t mean it. You know she didn’t.” Yoongi is not one to make excuses for people behaving badly but maybe when it comes to you there isn't an excuse he wouldn't make. Hobi doesn’t know if pulled punches ever deserve a thank you.

But Hobi knows you, how many times have you talked about trauma making you feel less than human? Is it ghosts or animals that you prefer? Hobi would not blame a cornered dog for nipping. He's an alpha after all, it's hard to forget that an alpha hurt you.

Hobi wonders what Geumjae was like.

Hobi tucks his eyes below his crossed arms. One hand on either knee, Nobly and boney against Hobi’s thin fingers and knuckles. “You don’t understand hyung, but she does, she does- and she did it anyway. And- and it doesn't even matter, because-”

Anger isn’t what he’s sick with- although it might be a symptom of the larger issue. Love is never quite so easy to diagnose (Hobi has learned this mentality from Namjoon). Love is not dangerous, love is not an illness, but it feels like maybe it should be.

"Because she’s, my mate?”

"No" Hobi chokes out. The tears on his cheeks slowly swallowed the sea spray, combining with it on his cheeks. Hobi’s crying so hard he can’t see anything, can’t see the ocean or the moonlight.

"You don't understand hyung,”

The truth wrenches clean from Hobi’s chest. He’s always been too honest for his own good. Honesty feels a bit like violence when he'd rather lie. Rather keep this secret for a little while longer. He could lie- a rose colored lie insead of a white one. But the truth is pointless and hopeless, as unavoidable as the advancing tide. The ocean crashes barely a foot from Hobi's knees, every few waves it gets a little closer.

No one but Yoongi could hear Hobi shout over the sea-spray, the beach is as abandoned as the end of the world. a separate planet made only for people who love you hopelessly.

“You don’t understand hyung, I love her and she's hurting, she’s hurting and I can’t do anything to make it better."

Yoongi pulls Hobi snug along his side, holding him tight- as tight as his arms will allow. Yoongi’s never felt broader or stronger or more worthwhile as he pulls Hobi to lie next to him, holding in the pieces as they break and crumble and Hobi sobs.

"I know Daisy, I know."

"She’s dying and I can't make it better." He repeats, like a broken record on repeat.

Yoongi drags his mouth across Hobi's forehead. "Sucks, right? It hurts right where it feels good, Like a tack in a piece of gum."

Hobi laughs wetly. "That is like the weirdest fucking analogy you could think of." And yet Hobi finds himself licking his lips testing for blood. Confessing to Yoongi is the first step in all of this, although Hobi should really be saving these words for you. Telling your mate is the first necessary step.

There is no illness and there is no cure for what you're stuck with, either time will heal all wounds or it won’t. Either you’ll get better or something else down the line will send you hurtling down this same path. Hurling like a fast car without a roll cage or a burning fallen star. Time will tumble you smooth and small like the waves turn glass into sand.

Into to nothing.

Hobi is struck by how afraid he is of that. Of something making you worse, of anything taking you from this living and glowing thing in his chest. He's scared of the sadness taking you.

When Hobi was a child, his parents always worked nights.

It didn’t suck too bad. There was always food in the fridge and the bills always got paid on time. Hobi had an iPad and more than enough art supplies to keep him occupied.

But every time he came home after school it would always be to a dark house. He’d have to do it all himself; turn the lights on, do the dishes from breakfast, fix the heat in the winter and wait for the house to heat up.

But when Hobi thinks of you it feels like you’ve left a light on, burning in his heart. A safe place he can always retreat to. Someone he can think about without it hurting most of the time. A person he can love without feeling like he’s giving up something. He doesn’t know when loving you became so real and tangible and glowing, but now that he’s burning it’s hard to stop.

He remembers that moment in the car before you’d gone to the burger place that became your haunt. Your spot, besides the ocean and Hobi’s car (maybe none of these places are saturated with nostalgia, maybe Hobi can only fall in love with you once, and the fact is he’s been doing it without savoring every moment is kind of terrible to consider. He'd have appreciated every second of it if he knew).

He remembers when you said, “Can you make it just the way I like it?”

Hobi doesn’t think he can make this love just the way you like it, at least not without it hurting like this. He’s a person just like you are, full of anger and grief and a terrible furious sort of will.

There is futility in it, in knowing that love doesn’t matter if It’s not given in the right way. That love doesn’t mean shit.

"I love her, and I can't do anything to make it better." Hoseok sobs, a little quieter.

“I know” Yoongi presses their foreheads together. “Trust me, Daisy, I know.” Hobi swallows the last of his tears against Yoongi's collarbones, and Yoongi bears the sandy imprints of hobi's fingers where he gripped him.

Yoongi tangles their hands together on the sand. Grainy and gritty. It feels right for the first time since Yoongi left all those months ago. It's almost been a full year since yoongi left, almost- Hobi's pretty sure he left this weekend last year. It feels like a full circle moment, Yoongi's left and come back and everything's different.

"I think i'm ready to go home now."

The waves crash back and forth. Unforgiving and unrelenting.

“I think I am too.”

~-~

The house is quiet when Yoongi and Hoseok get home. Dark except for a faint glow in the upstairs that just might be someone awake. Tae's library room light is the only one left lit on the first floor and Yoongi shuts it off before they go upstairs while Hobi settles himself. Takes a few steadying breaths of the pack's scents in the foyer.

He still doesn't know what he's going to say, he almost doesn't want to say anything yet, but he has a feeling you're going to pull it out of him regardless of what he intends.

Everyone in the pack smells vaguely food like; Yoongi's chocolate, Jungkook's honey and Jin's cream, Namjoon's coffee and Jimin's vanilla. Tae's cinnamon And your warm baked bread sugar. It smells muted here. The pack's unhappy scents have dissipated and been replaced with a solid not sad- not happy baseline. Any sadness has long been talked through and left for another moment.

It smells like home to Hobi. It smells like you.

Hobi’s eyes twinkle when they reflect the Christmas lights upon cresting the top of the stairs. Jungkook did as asked, probably a better job than Hobi could have done. He doesn’t know why he waited so long to put this idea into action. Maybe he thought that you wouldn’t accept it. Infringing on the pack like this.

Jimin’s still up, sprawled out with you lying on his chest, shirt removed sometime during cuddling. He's leaning back against the headboard with one arm behind his head, the other cradles your cheek where it rests. Watching. Not removing his eyes from you as promised.

Hobi watches as he murmurs something soft to you, pecking your forehead gently.

You'd woken a little while ago- not from a nightmare this time. Your stomach hurts and you're vaguely hungry because you hadn’t eaten anything earlier. No one had the heart to force you. Although you were glad for it at the moment, now you kind of wish you had if only to rid yourself of this familiar hollow ache.

Jimin's eyes flicker up at the sound of someone on the stairs and his grip on your cheek goes tight for a second before Jimin recognizes the figures on the stairs. Hobi makes eye contact with Jimin first, and you follow his eyes.

The two of them stand at the top of the stairs in shadow. It doesn't scare or startle you. You'd know your mate blind.

“Hey,” Hobi whispers, a little nervous. Mindful of the others, still asleep and ringing you cuddled at the center, their chests rising and falling softly.

Jimin looks a bit like he doesn’t want to let you go when you pull yourself to the edge of the nest, half hidden behind the gauzy curtains, lit from within. A careful little bundle of light. Perfectly safe. Hoseok's instincts stops their teething.

You teeter to the edge of the nest, holding the gauzy curtains to keep yourself from falling out of it. “You- you came back” you choke out, not sure why you’re surprised.

This is Hobi’s home after all. Closer up, Hobi notes your red-rimmed eyes, your voice raw like you talked this through with them for hours before you finally slept.

You hold each other apart for another breath before you're both moving, Colliding almost with how quickly you both move to cling. Hobi stumbles, socks wet and slippery. Reaching out to hold you the second you reach back. Hobi smells like the ocean when you press your face into his jacket, fingers hooking into the rip at the collar unintentionally as you hold the back of his neck.

Your body is warm and safe and alive in his arms and he almost wants to sag in the relief of it. But the hug doesn't last, hugs never last as long as you want them to. No sooner are you squeezing him than are you pulling back, eyes swimming with tears again.

“I’m so sorry Hobi," fresh tears build and spill down your cheeks. He's already shaking his head, already denying you your apology. "I’m sorry I tried to convince them you were lying, I’m sorry I-“ You break off. “I promise I’ll never do that again.”

Hobi cups your cheek, “Jesus, this is the second time I’ve made you cry today.” But his own eyes are wet and glassy.

“You dummy. You’re allowed to make me fucking cry as many times as you want if-” Hobi holds your face, thumbs skimming the top of your cheek bones, such a tender touch.

Hobi has never touched you like this, cupping both your cheeks so gently, your body shaking with his relieved laughter. His laugh- like a breeze coaxing a fire to burn, makes a giggle build in your chest too. His hair flops when he shakes his head. Neither of you should be laughing, but you are. Bodies light in relief that the other is okay. That you're okay.

This living breathing love between the two of you is undamaged by the words you said in fear. Before Hobi came up the stairs he wasn't sure that he forgave you but now that you're in his arms, he's not even thinking about the gaslighting.

How did he not realize for so long?

His eyes flash from your eyes to your lips. “You can’t…you can’t do that anymore, okay? I think I’ll go crazy if you try and hurt yourself again- I think I’ll-” Hobi knows it’s not the right thing to say, but what else can he say? Logically? What words could he have that would ever cancel out your pain?

But he doesn't know what else to say, he just doesn't want you to hurt. Hobi can do little more than say it and then try to keep you underfoot.

“I won’t I’ll-” Resolve swells in your chest; the better-looking cousin to shame. “I’ll try. I’ll tell you when I want to so you can hold me back again, okay?” Hobi nods, eyes shining in the dark.

If they smothered you with love, would you even have time to hurt? or has distracting you from your problems only gotten you here.

He goes quiet and when you pull him into the nest, he goes easy. Staying there perched on his knees. Smelling like seawater. His hair a salty sticky tangle. Tucking his head in close, and burying his face in your shoulder again. Fingers tangling in your shirt.

Yoongi makes a soft noise noting the band-aids on your arms. Hobi didn't notice them either until he drags your arm up into the light.

You grimace. “It’s silly- I told them they didn’t need to, but-“

Yoongi shakes his head, long hair flopping. “It’s better, this is better. It’s not a waste.” Yoongi is a man of few words, and your confession and apology has made him even quieter than usual.

He likes watching people he loves fall in love. it's kinda like watching a special rom-com written just for him.

Hobi taps his fingers along the Band-Aids, thinking back to that moment. his voice is quiet but it still comes out like an accusation. "You could have told me; I was standing right there. You could have told me."

"I'm sorry i didn't say anything."

Hoseok swallows hard, "Why didn't you?"

“It’s not that I don’t ever want to tell you, it's that I don’t want to scare you. Sometimes I think things that aren’t the kindest about me." your cheek tips to the side, catching the shadow from the christmas lights, all chiaroscuro. "It’s scary.”

You are a frightened little thing, a world full of shadows and band-aids on half-healed hurts. But if there are scary shadows in your head, then Hobi will be your nightlight. “I don’t think you could ever scare me."

“I don’t want to make you worried then.”

Hobi shakes his head, stubborn. “That’s what you don’t get, when you make us worried, it doesn’t hurt. I mean of course it’s worry- but it feels good. It feels good that I'm the one who gets to worry over you. We’re a family. And I don’t just say that because it's true. I say that because I'd choose you to be my family every time. Every time I’d choose this. So, worrying kind of comes with it. It’s not just terms and conditions. Worrying about you is why I'm here, what I'm here for.”

Behind you, Yoongi nods. “Heavy things aren’t a burden if you choose to carry them.”

It's not a confession, but what do the words 'I love you' mean when the sentiment is the same? Hobi is your person. If Jimin and Tae are soulmates and so are Namjoon and Jin- then maybe you and Hobi are kind like that too.

In another world, Yoongi might never have mated you. Maybe hobi would have.

You breathe deep, letting the words wash over you, a little sick with it. A little quiet.

He tangles his hand with yours, “If you stay, I’m staying. If you hurt- I’m hurting too so- you can’t hurt me alright?” His lower lip wobbles and you lean your forehead against his.

“Alright.” You agree. Quiet with the weight of it.

Yoongi drags you into the bathroom and you brush your teeth elbow and elbow with Hobi, changing into your pajamas in silence. “You didn’t eat anything did you?” Yoongi asks, and you shake your head easily this time.

That’s how you end up eating ramen with Hobi on the bathroom floor. Lounging on the heated slate when Yoongi turns them on to keep you warm. You nibble on some of the bread that was baked for dinner and pass your chopsticks back and forth between the three of you. You don’t know if the rest of the pack ate after you fell asleep. Jin’s a little anal about it so probably. And then you brush your teeth again because really who wants to go to bed tasting like garlic and chapagetti?

“Where did you go?” Hobi drags his face wash through his bangs too- just to get rid of the salt a little.

“Our spot.”

“Oh.” You rub your hands against the flannel shorts you wear. hobi pokes your hand with his pinky, skimming up your knuckle. he feels like he can't keep from touching you, just little touches, cradling your hands when it holds the disposable chopsticks so that you don't drop a noodle, cupping your elbow when you move to get the mouth wash. Each touch heavier and needier than the last.

“Get me any sea glass?”

“Next time” he promises, hands warm with the prospect of it. Mind teaming with the idea of next time. There will always be a next time.

“I hate that we haven’t gone back since…” you trail off.

“I do too.” I hate a lot more than that, like how I can’t just fucking say it right now. Hobi wants to tell you he loves you and wants to free this slimy living thing like hope from his chest. But it's hard.

But everything is fine. He can wait a little longer.

In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is just perfectly fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine. Everything is in fact- falling together so beautifully. Hobi loves you like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Throat burning with the words he just won’t release. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you. You and Hobi can only hope.

It’s only hope afterall, how much damage can it really do?)

When you walk into the nest room, the lights are still on. The christmas lights twinkle and the pack has left all of them on for you. Tae’s sleep masks are distributed among them. Jimin's finally fallen asleep, released from his promise.

And when you get into the nest- Hobi pulls you back into the center of it. Yoongi on your other side as you burrow sleepily into Hobi's chest, head tucked a little lower than his heart. You fall asleep easily because you’re worn out a little from all that crying. Hobi stays awake a little longer. Just to make sure you don’t have another nightmare. Just to watch you sleeping soundly.

But for once, your chest rises and falls easily, your demon’s exorcised for now. If they come back, Hobi will fight them off tooth and nail. Blood and claw.

Yoongi’s hand cards through his hair, gentle enough to make the soft growl-grumble in Hobi’s chest taste like a needy keen.

“When are you going to tell her?” he asks, voice honey homey whisper soft.

“Eventually,” Hobi nibbles on his lip. Your warm breathe teases the soft skin of his neck, the first easy breaths you've taken in days. “Soon.”

Yoongi hums, a deep-seated noise of approval.

“Soon,” he agrees.

~-~

Read Tae's book: 'Girls and Other Dangerous Things' Here

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Chapter 59 notes

i can't believe it took me 700,000 words for hoseok to realize he's in love 😂 but also 💀 honestly they should have kissed, but tbh, i kinda want their verbal love confession to come after they fuck for the first time.

i love how the chapter begins with the m/c waking up to hobi taking care of her and ends with her falling asleep next to him. About a year ago some fucker on tictoc said something about ed's that triggered me into the biggest ed relapse i've ever had, and there is a moment here where the mc says something really similar in her internal monologue, I almost edited it out about a million times but decided to keep it in the end.

This is the m/c's make it or break it moment like- mentally- this is either the moment that she's going to get better or not. the moment that sort of defines her recovery in a way.

for a very very long time i have been in the place where the m/c is in this chapter, these cusps of "am i going to relapse am i going to get better?" can last for a very long time- the moments where you're not sure you're ever going to get better than then decide that it doesn't matter you still have to try anyways. its very very difficult to articulate- but i hope if you're in this place too- you just keep trying. i don't have the words or all the solutions for you. But sometimes you just need to keep what you're doing and try even when it feels terrible and useless.

During the part where the m/c is about to have her breakdown, i tried to write it with the feeling like the pack is a little further away from the scene because i don't think the m/c is aware of their movements- she's definitely heavily dissociating during that part.

the part where Namjoon gets out his doctors bag and takes the m/c's like- vital signs- is lowkey my favorite part of this chapter- baring hobi's, "you don't understand hyung" lines (which have been written for like a full year tbh) i think deep down with my recovery, the only thing i've ever wanted is to be treated like i'm as sick as it feels like i am.

I personally think it's really funny that hobi texts jk and tells him not to tell them/c that he's thinking about her and then immediately tells her exactly that. jk is so untrustworthy i sorta love him for immediately snitching. its for their own good! jk is such a little shit and it's so apart of his character.

Tae's book- ie 'girls and other dangerous things' is a story that i wrote when i was 15 and is the origin of my pen name! originally- i made this blog as a space for me to try and talk about it and post a few parts of it, i forgot about it for a few years and then when i started to get into kpop i kinda naturally put all my fandom stuff here. the truth is i would have referenced one of my other stories- like 'Don't care if it hurts' or 'Reasons wretched and divine' but i've already referenced those in this story so i needed new material and i felt like i couldn't use any of those. what a full circle moment!

I did not get to edit the end of this chapter as much as i wanted too- but thats okay, i think at this point. The people who still want to read this story are reading it to the end. i'm making it what i want- not necessarily something that will impress a bunch of people. This is just the way the story is <3 messy and complicated just like life.

as always <3

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⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ soulmates (real) ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇